The Last Chance
by stella-pegasi
Summary: Arizona 1874: John Sheppard drifted from frontier town to frontier town seeking a new life. In Wickenburg, AZ he may have found his last chance. AU Cowboy!Shep
1. Part One

**Title: The Last Chance**

**Author: **stella_pegasi

**Summary:** Arizona 1874: John Sheppard drifted from frontier town to frontier town seeking a new life. In Wickenburg, he may have found his last chance.

**Rating: **M (AU-Action, Het, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Non-con, Torture)

**Word Count: **Total ~45,500

**Spoilers: **None…AU-Old West…set in ~1874 Arizona

**Warnings:** Nudity, Het sexual situations, suggestion of non-con, torture, whump. (Nothing too graphic.)

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Original Female Character, Rodney McKay, Carson Beckett, Various SGA Characters, Original Characters

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Notes: **The Last Chance was written for a dear, dear friend who loves cowboys and loves John Sheppard. She asked a Cowboy!Shep story and I offered to attempt to write one for her. I have never written a western before and I am indebted to another wonderful friend who loves cowboys as well and helped me achieved the atmosphere of the Old West as best I could.

There is romance, a lot of whump, some hint of non-con, sexual situations, torture, (not extremely graphic). I hope you enjoy John Sheppard as a cowboy; this was so much fun to write. There are seven chapters to be posted over the next few days.

* * *

**The Last Chance**

_By stella_pegasi_

_**Part 1**_

Embers from the small campfire drifted upward toward the pitch-black sky, as if the stars were seeking warmth. The crackling of burning wood and a soft whinny from the sleek muscular stallion tied to a scraggly tree were the only sounds keeping him company. The desert was hushed, as if holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Lying back on the thick, gray woolen bedroll, John Sheppard stared at the sparkling points of light overhead. He felt, as he perceived the desert felt, that any moment something was going to happen. After months of drifting from one small town to another, he craved for something, anything, to happen, but he realized if it did, it would be trouble. There was always trouble.

The stallion pawed at the sandy ground, snorting, seeming to sense his uneasiness. He spoke softly, "Be quiet, Pegasus, tomorrow we're riding into Wickenburg. I promise I'll get you some oats, but only if you're quiet tonight." Pegasus snorted again but fell silent, and horse and rider fell asleep, waiting for dawn.

As the sun began to peek over the eastern horizon, the cold nose of an impatient horse nudging his cheek awoke him. Stretching his long legs, Sheppard could feel every pebble and root digging into his back, despite the thick wool pad he laid on. As he pushed himself onto his feet, he whispered to the wind, "Tonight…a real bed."

The campfire had died down, only a few embers glowed among the ashes; he added a couple more pieces of wood from the pile he had gathered the night before and restarted the flame. Grabbing a saddlebag, he rummaged through the sparse supplies he had left, noticing that Pegasus had wandered to the end of his tether, noisily chomping as he grazed on a patch of scrubby grass. He selected a can of beans, hard tack bread, and just enough coffee for a single cup, which would have to do for his own breakfast.

Sheppard sat cross-legged in front of the fire as he ate, wondering what he was going to find in Wickenburg. The stable hand in the last town he visited told him that the military had finally broken the backs of the Yavapai Indians, putting an end to the raids against the settlers. Talk was that the fertile plain of the Hassayampa River was attracting ranchers and farmers along with the miners who had settled years before. Lately, he has begun to think about finding a small plot of land, and settling down, but he had yet to find what he was looking for.

Breakfast consumed; he doused the fire, packed up his meager belongings, and mounted Pegasus. "Come on, boy; time to join civilization."

The narrow trail he was following ran along a low rise, meeting up with the main road into Wickenburg, about two miles from where he camped. A weathered wooden sign, sitting crookedly in the sandy soil, had _Wickenburg 10 miles_ burned into it. Sheppard felt Pegasus tense. The road was wide, and for the most part, level; he wanted to gallop. With a quick flip of the reins against the horse's withers, Sheppard let him.

After running at a full gallop for nearly six miles, Pegasus wasn't winded, but Sheppard had enough, and slowed the big horse down. "Whoa, boy; I don't want to ride into town as if a posse's chasing me. We don't need anyone to think we're a threat, so try to act dignified." Pegasus threw his head back and forth, making it clear that he was not happy.

As he rode into town, Sheppard marveled at how one western settlement looked like any other. Wickenburg was no exception; at the entrance to town, a combined stagecoach station and telegraph office sat apart from the business section. Along the packed-dirt main street, he spotted the usual, a hotel, a mercantile, a bank, the sheriff's office and jail, a barbershop, and a saloon; he headed straight for the saloon.

Dismounting, he led Pegasus to a watering trough where the big horse drank his fill, then Sheppard wrapped the reins around the hitching post outside of the saloon. With a pat to the stallion's neck, he grabbed one of the saddlebags slinging it across his left shoulder, and climbed the dusty steps to the boardwalk spurs jangling as he walked. Above the swinging doors, a painted wooden sign read, _The Lucky Strike Saloon_.

It was mid-morning, yet several men were already nursing bottles of whiskey, a couple sitting at the polished wooden bar, the rest sitting at tables. In the corner, five men were playing poker and from their tired faces, it appeared, they'd been playing all night. Everyone turned to stare as the rattle of the swinging doors announced his arrival.

The barkeep, a small slight man with mousy brown hair, and round wire-rimmed glasses, wiped the counter down in front of him as he sat on a stool. Smiling slightly, he spoke in a heavy accent, "Welcome stranger, what'll be?"

"Shot of your best whiskey, none of that rot-gut stuff."

"My best whiskey cost up front."

Sheppard smiled, "Not a problem," reaching into his vest pocket he pulled out a silver dollar. "Keep it coming."

The bartender pulled a bottle from under the counter, and poured a shot glass full, sliding it toward Sheppard, who downed the shot in one gulp and slid it back for a refill. He had just taken a sip of the second when hands slipped around his arm, and a soft voice whispered in his ear.

"Ooh…I knew this was gonna be my lucky day, and here you are; not everyday a handsome thing like you walks into this saloon."

Sheppard turned his head to find a young and very pretty blond barmaid grinning broadly. His eyes trailed down her body, enjoying the low cut white peasant blouse and full calico skirt she was wearing. He smiled back, "Hello, lovely lady."

"Ooh…and polite, too; I think I'm gonna have to keep you. I'm Jennifer, what's your name handsome?"

"I'm John, and I'm just passing through."

Jennifer pouted, "Now, don't go saying that when we've just met; I bet I can convince you to stay."

"Aren't you a little young to be working in a saloon?"

"I'm older than I look handsome John."

The bartender, who had been stocking beer bottles, approached, "Jennie, don't bother the customers."

"She's not a bother," Sheppard murmured, tipping his empty shot glass.

The bartender's eyes blazed, "She's not for pleasure."

"Oh…Radek, you ruin everything." Jennifer spun away, running through a curtained doorway into the backroom of the saloon.

Sheppard threw up his hands, "I'm not looking for companionship, just some whiskey, and a hotel room."

The bartender sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose, as he poured another shot, "Promiň …uh…sorry...I forget sometimes; I am Radek Zelenka, and I am from Bohemia. I did not mean to be disrespectful, but I raised Jennifer since her parents were killed in Indian raid. She was twelve; no one else would take her in because her father was town drunk and her mother worked in the saloon. I had just come to Wickenburg, and I fired her mother for her behavior with customers. Then they were killed; I could not let the child wander the streets. Sometimes people forget she is not her mother; I apologize."

"No need to apologize; taking in an orphan is a good thing." Sheppard downed his third shot, then stood up. "I need to stable my horse and find a room…suggestions?"

"Livery's in alley behind the sheriff's office, next to the blacksmith shop, the hotel's two doors down, tell Maddie I sent you; she will take care of you."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

Sheppard stepped out into the bright sun, slipping his black Stetson on, and untied Pegasus' reins. Leading the horse toward the alley behind the jail, he was oblivious to the attention he was receiving, not realizing that word of a stranger had already spread through the town. Many townsfolk were peering out their shop windows to catch a glimpse of the tall, handsome man leading a beautiful black stallion across Main Street. Dressed all in black, from his leather duster, jacket, shirt, vest, and pants, to black boots adorned with shiny silver spurs, Sheppard made quite an impression on Wickenburg's citizens. However, one citizen, in particular, was curious about something else. Sheriff Evan Lorne, watching from the jail, was interested in the Colt pistol, called the Peacemaker, strapped low around Sheppard's hip, very interested indeed.

Pegasus whinnied loudly as they neared the livery stable, Sheppard laughed, "Hey buddy; you excited because you smell hay and oats or is there a sweet little filly in there?" The horse only snorted, and Sheppard laughed again, "I see, not telling."

The livery faced the alley along the rear of the shops on Main Street. A blacksmith shop sat at the left of the livery, the smithy hard at work pounding red-hot iron. There were two large barn doors, one leading to the granary and supplies, the other to a large stable. As Sheppard led Pegasus though the wide stable door, a young groom rushed up, "Mister, that's a fine horse. I never seen a horse that big, he must be over 16 hands."

"Thanks, he's 17 hands, but don't give him the big head; he already believes he's special. I need to stable him for a few days, and he could use a good grooming. He also loves oats, but watch him…he'll keep begging for them…so watch what you feed him."

"No problem, mister; I'm Nick, and I'll take good care of him. What kind of horse is he? I ain't seen a mane and tail like that before."

Sheppard removed the saddlebags, "Pegasus is a Friesian, from the Netherlands. His dam died foaling him, so I took him after a broodmare weaned him, and he's been with me ever since. He's three years old, and mischievous as a child. I suggest you don't turn your back on him and don't try to ride him, he doesn't like anyone else on him but me."

Nick began pulling the saddle, blanket, and tack off the stallion, "Love this long mane, and tail, so thick and wavy. What's his name…Pega…mean?"

Sheppard hesitated, old memories flooding back; shaking to clear his head, he answered, "Pegasus was the name of a winged horse in Greek mythology. My mother used to read that story to me when I was young. When he was just a foal, he could run like the wind, so I named him Pegasus."

Nick finished removing the tack, and Sheppard asked, "You got some place safe to keep the saddle and all this?"

"Yep, we got a room we keep locked, but we don't have much problem, being behind the sheriff's office."

"Good…I'll be staying at the hotel, John Sheppard's the name." Glancing at the rates posted on the wall, he handed money for a week's boarding to Nick. "That should keep him in oats for a few days." He turned to Pegasus, rubbing his nose, "Please behave."

His first destination after leaving the stables was the hotel, the tallest building on Main Street. The cramped lobby was off a wide three-story foyer, and reminded Sheppard of every hotel he had stayed in since he began his westward trek; dark wood floors covered in Oriental rugs, red and brown upholstered settees scattered about, hideous red-flowered wallpaper adorning the walls. A redheaded woman, about the bartender's age, sat behind the front desk. He dropped his saddlebags onto a settee and approached the counter.

"Maddie?"

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"John Sheppard, need a room; Radek said you'd take care of me."

A smile lit up her face, "He did? Well, I'm beholding to him; that crazy woman running that new boarding house is trying to take my business. Me…I think she's running one of those kinda places, if you know what I mean; no respecting man would stay there."

"I wouldn't have any idea, ma'am; not sure how long I'm gonna be in town, can we plan on a week for now?"

"Of course, just sign here, and you can pay for two days, then we'll settle up when you leave."

"Can I arrange for a bath this afternoon?"

"Of course, there's a bath house just out back, want me to have Pedro start the hot water?

"No, I need to go to the bank and stop by the mercantile first."

"That'll be fine; just let me know when you get back," Maddie replied as she handed him his room key, "Second floor, room 207,"

Returning to the foyer, Sheppard noticed the French doors that led to a large dining room, where he planned to have a steak dinner that evening. Climbing the staircase, two stairs at a time, he found Room 207 only a few steps from the stairs. The room was more spacious than he expected, but all he really cared about was the big bed. Throwing his saddlebags on the floor, he flopped onto the feather-filled mattress. As he sank into the softness, he decided the bartender was right; Maddie took care of him.

As much as he wanted to lie on the soft mattress forever, Sheppard got up and grabbed the small black saddlebag. He pulled a chain with a small key attached from underneath his shirt and unlocked the tiny lock on the bag, withdrawing several bills of US Currency from inside. As he was tucking the money in his vest pocket, he walked to the window, which looked out over Main Street. He could hear the soft tinkle of a player piano, no doubt from the saloon; a couple of horses with riders sauntered down the street, while a deputy sitting on a railing watched everything. As he started to turn away, he heard the clattering of wagon wheels; a quick glance back and he saw a young couple arriving in a supply wagon. They stopped in front of the mercantile; the young man jumped out, tethered the horses, and then helped the woman from the wagon. As the couple disappeared into the mercantile, Sheppard left his room.

The bank was on the other side of the street, next to the barbershop; a two-story building painted a dirty looking white with brown shutters on the windows that flanked the heavy wooden door. Inside, dark stained wood floors contrasted with the walls, painted the same dirty white as the building. A private, enclosed office took up half of the rear of the lobby; a bench with two teller windows filled the other half. Sheppard approached the teller window, where a pale man with thinning hair greeted him.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Sheppard laid the small saddlebag on the counter, "I need to keep this in your safe while I'm in town."

"Certainly sir, please fill this out, and we'll be happy to keep this safe, in our safe." The teller giggled nervously at his attempt at humor.

Sheppard glanced up, uttering a small laugh, "That's good." He filled out the paper, signed it and pushed it under the iron bars of the teller's cage. "I might need to access this, any problem with that?"

"No sir, just keep this receipt to show when you need your bag," he pushed a small card toward Sheppard, and pulled the saddlebag through the opening.

Sheppard turned to leave and nearly ran over a shorter, bald man standing in his path. "Ah, so you are the stranger who just arrived in Wickenburg; I am Richard Woolsey and I own this bank."

"John Sheppard, I'm just passing through."

"What's your business in Wickenburg, Mr. Sheppard?"

"No business, just seeing the sights."

Woolsey seemed uneasy, "Well...you enjoy your stay."

With a tip of his hat, Sheppard said, "I plan on it, nice to meet you." He stepped around Woolsey and left the bank, wondering why the banker was so interested in his business.

The mercantile was next on his list; he wanted to get a new shirt and some cotton longjohns; the wool ones he had were too hot. The wagon that had been in front of the shop earlier was now across the street at the apothecary. Sheppard pushed the door open, setting off a bell, suspended from the top of the door.

"Eme did you forget…, oh…you're not Eme." The confused voice belonged to a man a few inches shorter than Sheppard. Of medium build, he had a kind face, framed by light-brown hair, thinning a bit on top. The man's most notable feature were his inquisitive blue eyes.

"Nope, I'm not; just looking for some shirts and longjohns."

"Oh…oh…upstairs, all the clothes are upstairs." He turned away, absently gesturing with a wave of his hand toward the back of the store.

Sheppard climbed to the loft where there were racks and racks of clothes and shelves of shoes. He rummaged around for a bit, selected a couple of shirts, a pair of trousers, a jacket, and a couple of pairs of cotton longjohns, then returned to the main floor.

"Find what you needed?"

"I did; in fact, you've got quite a selection."

"Got a good supplier from back east; when the rich folks get tired of their clothes, he buys them, cleans and mends them, and sells them. I began doing business with him a few years ago; now people come all the way from Phoenix to buy clothes."

"Seems you got a good business going here," Sheppard remarked as he glanced around the large story, there was a dry goods section, cooking utensils, furniture, blankets, tools, seeds, a whole array of items.

"Yeah…it's a living." He began to write up Sheppard's bill, "You need anything else?"

"Let me look around." He wandered the shop, not really wanting anything, until he spotted a black leather satchel; picking it up, he ran his fingers along the soft leather.

"Here, I'd like this." As he waited for the proprietor to add up his bill, he stared at the satchel, thinking that if he kept this up, he was going to need to find a place to settle down. Pegasus was a strong horse, but he couldn't carry everything, and he didn't want a packhorse to slow him down. He wondered if perhaps he was trying to tell himself just that, it was time to settle down.

After paying the bill, he asked, "How long you have you lived in Wickenburg?"

"Been here ten years, I…I moved here with my sister and her husband."

"Like it?"

He hesitated, a forlorn look crossing his face, "Yes...I do, most days."

Sheppard chuckled, "Most days, 'bout all we can ask for; I'm John Sheppard, by the way."

"John…I'm Rodney McKay; you in town long?"

"Not sure, for a few days at least," Sheppard picked up the satchel now holding his clothing and said, "See you around." McKay nodded.

Walking out into the hot sun, Sheppard realized he was hungry, wondering if the hotel served lunch. He turned toward the hotel when he heard a voice yell, "Get your hands off of her."

A feminine voice cried out, "Chuck, stop."

Swirling around, he saw a thin young man pulling at the arm of a much larger man, who had his other arm around a small raven-haired woman. His companion grabbed the younger man and threw him into the dirt. "We told ya, Mr. Cowen wants to talk to the lovely lady, now git." He kicked the fallen man in the gut.

"Let me go, Daners; I'm not going anywhere with you." The woman kicked the man holding her in the shins, causing him to yelp. He raised his hand to strike her, but stopped when he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.

"I don't think the lady wants to go with you; release her, or I will shoot you." He glanced over at the other man. "Don't make a move or your buddy here dies." The steely gaze Sheppard sent his way caused the second man to back off.

"Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter, let her go."

"I think you're a coward. You ain't gonna shoot me."

Sheppard cocked the gun, "Want to risk it?"

"Daners, let her go, now." Sheppard turned toward the voice; it was the sheriff, accompanied by two of his deputies. Daners released the woman, and held up his hands. Sheppard lowered his gun and stepped away.

"Now, sheriff; Mr. Cowen wanted to have Miss Spencer join him for lunch; we were just escorting her."

The sheriff glanced at the woman, "Emeline you are okay?"

"I'm fine Evan; let them go."

The sheriff didn't appear to approve, but he nodded, "You two, get out of here." Daners and his companion mounted their horses, tied next to the wagon and rode off.

Sheriff Lorne went to the woman he called Emeline, gently taking her arm, "You sure you're alright?" She nodded, and he asked, "You and Chuck heading back now?"

"Yes, we just came into town for a few things."

Lorne turned to his deputies, "Boys, go get your horses; you're gonna ride back to the ranch with Miss Spencer."

Lorne offered his hand to assist Miss Spencer off the sidewalk, but she turned toward Sheppard. "I haven't thanked you, mister, for coming to our aid. I appreciate your help."

Sheppard felt as though a cannon ball had impacted his chest; standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her voice was soft, sultry, and he detected a slight French lilt. Her long, lustrous raven hair gathered in a clasp at the nape of her slender neck, she was dressed in a simple white high-necked blouse and tan riding skirt. She was petite, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, and possessed the most incredible dark-green eyes he had ever looked into.

He tipped his hat, "Glad to be of assistance, ma'am; thankful that you and the young man aren't hurt."

"So am I, mister…?"

"Sheppard, ma'am; John Sheppard."

She smiled, "I'm Emeline Spencer, nice to meet you, Mr. Sheppard."

Before Sheppard could reply, Lorne reached between them and pulled Emeline toward the wagon. "Eme, you need to get home," he helped her into the wagon, where Chuck was already seated, reins in hand. "You tell the boys to keep their eyes open." He patted her arm, "I'll come out and check on you."

Sheppard was experiencing a sensation that he hadn't felt in a very long time. As Emeline squeezed Lorne's hand resting on her arm, Sheppard felt hot jealousy course through his veins. However, as the wagon turned to head toward home once the deputies arrived, Emeline turned and looked his way, a slight smile on her face; the jealousy faded, replaced by desire.

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice from behind, "Here…"

Rodney McKay was standing behind him with the satchel that he had dropped when he ran to help Emeline. Sheppard took the satchel, "Thanks."

"That was really brave to stand up to Cowen's hired guns."

"Who is this Cowen?"

"He owns the biggest percentage of land on the Hassayampa River plain, and he wants more. He's been after Eme's ranch for many years. He…"

Sheriff Lorne walked up, "Rodney…I need to talk to this man, could you give us a minute?"

Rodney sighed, "Yeah, Evan; we'll talk later John."

Sheppard nodded, and Rodney returned to the mercantile, "I'm heading back to hotel, sheriff, walk with me."

"Who are you?"

"John Sheppard, but what do you really want to ask?"

Lorne sucked in a breath, "If I was a guessing man, from the way you look, I'd figure you for a gunslinger or a gambler, but my gut tells me you aren't either."

"No, I'm not; not gonna lie to you, had a few fights along the way, but I didn't start any of 'em."

"Just finished them."

Sheppard scoffed, "I guess you could say that." He fell silent, deciding that he just might be able to trust this man. "I'm just a guy who decided to leave everything behind and look for a new life; not an original story I know." He stopped, leaning against a hitching post, "I'm from Maryland originally, grew up in a wealthy family, attended West Point against my father's wishes, fought in the war as a very young man, retired from the Army as a colonel before they court-martialed me for disobeying orders. I took offense to a general's order to wipe out a small group of Indian refugees who had settled near the fort. I refused, and moved the group where they would be safe." He stood up, "That's it, sheriff; you know all there is to know about John Sheppard."

Lorne stared at the tall stranger for a moment before he replied, "Somehow, Sheppard, I don't think that's all to know about you; but thank you for telling me. We have enough trouble around here without adding more. Enjoy your stay in Wickenburg."

Sheppard watched Lorne walk away, wondering just how much trouble the town of Wickenburg actually had. As the image of a raven-hair beauty flooded his thoughts, he decided he needed to stay around to find out.

* * *

Ride 'em Cowboy! Hope you enjoy!


	2. Part Two

_**Part Two**_

Water splashed out of the claw-foot tub as Sheppard surfaced after ducking under the water to rinse the excess soap from his hair. Collapsing back against the sloped porcelain, he realized how much he missed civilization and its luxuries. He laughed aloud; he had just referred to a remote, small backwoods town as civilization. Perspective certainly changed things.

The door to the private bath creaked; opening his eyes, he saw Pedro, the hotel handyman, carrying two large buckets. He motioned for Pedro, who he had paid extra to keep bringing hot water, to empty the buckets into the tub. Wanting a long hot soak, Sheppard sank deeper into the steamy water, feeling the heat penetrate his bones.

Closing his eyes once more, Sheppard reflected on the morning's events. There was definitely an undercurrent of fear in Wickenburg, and it seemed to point to the man called Cowen. He'd dealt with men like Cowen before, men who sought out small settlements to consume and control. Cowen was no doubt ruthless, power-hungry, and deadly, and he seemed to have Emeline in his sights. The one thing Sheppard was certain about was that Cowen wasn't interested in only her land.

As the water cooled, he decided it was time to get out of the tub, and reluctantly, he stepped out. He grabbed a towel from stack piled on a dresser; as he dried off, he peered at his reflection in the mirror. Fading scars from the war, fresher scars from more recent skirmishes dotted his torso; a few fine silver hairs peeked through his dark messy hair and the thick beard he had grown out during his trek. Rubbing the scruffy beard, he decided to pay a visit to the barber. However, tomorrow would be soon enough; this afternoon he wanted to sleep, enjoy a good dinner, and afterwards, relax at the saloon. Pedro was washing the clothes he'd been wearing on the trail, so he dressed in the new pants and shirt he'd bought from Rodney, fastened his studded black leather gauntlet around his wrist, and returned to his room. He collapsed on the soft bed for an afternoon nap.

~ooOoo~

Dusk was falling over Wickenburg, as Sheppard headed downstairs for the steak dinner he had promised himself. As he neared the double doors leading to the dining room, he could hear the clinking of glass and murmuring voices. He walked into the dining room, and immediately heard his name called out; scanning the room, he saw Rodney McKay waving him toward a table near the window.

McKay was sitting with a man of medium build, dark-brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and an impish grin. "Carson, this is John Sheppard. He's one who stood up to Cowen's men today; John, Carson Beckett, Wickenburg's doctor, and before you ask, he's Scottish, so he might be hard to understand."

"Rodney, you nickey," Beckett sniped as he rose from his seat, extending his hand to shake Sheppard's hand. "Laddie, very nice to meet you; Rodney told me about the incident this afternoon, how you confronted those thugs. Not many people in this town, other than the sheriff, seem to have the courage to do that." He pointed to an empty chair, "Please join us for dinner, John."

"Thanks, I will join you," Sheppard replied as he and the doctor sat down. "Don't like bullies, doc; especially bullies who pick on a woman and a young kid."

Doc Beckett sighed, "No one likes bullies, but lately, this town has had to deal with them," his thick brogue rolling his words. "Ah…here comes Maddie, she's a good mot."

Sheppard looked at McKay, "Mot?"

McKay shrugged, "I don't know, he says weird Scottish words, calls me a nickey all the time, but won't tell me what it means."

Maddie slapped Dr. Beckett on the shoulder, "Carson, haven't seen you in a few days, you avoiding me?" Her taunting question caused Beckett to blush, in turn causing Maddie to grin, "What can I get you boys to eat? Got a roasted ham, beef stew left over from lunch, or cookie can whip up some elk steaks or beef steaks for you."

Sheppard gave Maddie a sly smile, "I'd had your stew mid-day, and it was delicious. I'd like a big beef steak, not overcooked, I like it on the rarer side, can you do that? And a bottle of good whisky for the table?"

"That I can," Maddie turned to Beckett and McKay, who ordered steaks as well, then headed for the kitchen.

More people were arriving, Sheppard remarked to his companions, "I didn't expect this place to be so busy."

McKay answered, "This was a mining town for a long time, then the ranchers and farmers settled because of the valley's fertile land. Not a lot of families, started to see children in the last few years, and we just got a schoolmarm about three years ago, when the new sheriff arrived."

Sheppard perked up, "Sheriff…you mean Lorne?"

"Yes…his wife Laura is a school teacher, set up the first school when they arrived; she's got over twenty students now."

Sheppard didn't comment on the fact that Lorne had a wife, but he was surprised at how pleased he was at that news. He decided to ask about the beautiful woman whose image had haunted him all afternoon. "Tell me about Emeline Spencer; why is this man Cowen and his men harassing her?"

McKay sighed, "Eme's grandfather, Anton LeMonde, came to Wickenburg nearly twelve years ago from New Orleans, right after the Civil War ended. Like a lot of people, he came during the gold rush; unlike a lot of the others, he made a strike, a big one. Anton used the gold from the strike to buy a prime stretch of fertile land along the river, and started a ranch. Hired some hands, along with a Mexican couple to tend to the house; they rounded up wild horses, broke 'em for sale, grew vegetables, and sold them in town; things went well for him until Cowen arrived."

"What's Cowen's story?" Sheppard asked as he poured three shots from the bottle that Maddie brought.

Shrugging, McKay replied, "We don't know a lot about him, word has it, he came from Texas, Dallas, I think. Evan tried to find out about him but all he learned was that there was some kind of banking trouble, and Cowen left Texas and turned up here."

Doc Beckett poured himself another shot, downed it, then added, "As soon as he got here, two years ago, right Rodney?" McKay nodded and Beckett continued, "As soon he got here, he made friends with the mayor, Richard Woolsey…"

Sheppard interrupted, "Mayor…thought he was the banker?"

"He is," Beckett said, "and he's the mayor, won by a landslide after the Stagecoach Station Manager, Bill Mason, dropped out. Mason is well liked; he would have won easily, but something spooked him. Evan tried to get him to say what happened, but he refused. We think Cowen threatened him, but no way to prove it."

"What kind of trouble did he cause for LeMonde?"

"All sorts of things started happening, horses stolen; crops destroyed. His hired hands were beaten, killed that one…uh…," McKay struggled for the name.

"Tommy Bonds," Beckett interjected, "They found him on the road leading to the ranch; beaten severely, his throat slit."

Sheppard leaned back in his chair, "Sheriff was never able to find out who killed him?"

Beckett shook his head, "No, boy smelled of whiskey when I saw the body. The conclusion was that some leg killed him over a card game; Tommy was in the saloon the night before they found him?"

Sheppard stared at Beckett, "Leg?"

"Uh…sorry, I forget, means a cheat at sporting," Beckett answered sheepishly.

"The fact is, John," McKay stated, "no one believes that anyone but Cowen's thugs killed him as a warning to LeMonde. LeMonde was feisty and stubborn; he wouldn't sell the one piece of land that Cowen wants most of all."

"The LeMonde ranch," Sheppard stated quietly.

McKay remarked, "The Last Chance, actually; that's what Anton called his ranch. He told me once that he'd been disowned by his family, something about a son-in-law from up east that hated his Cajun ways, turned his only daughter against him. He said he named his ranch The Last Chance, because he felt it was the last chance he had to make his granddaughter proud of him."

"Emeline Spencer," Sheppard whispered.

"Aye, laddie, the lovely Miss Spencer; Anton stayed in touch with his granddaughter after he left New Orleans. Apparently, she could tell something was wrong from his letters; she came to see about him, but arrived the day after he was killed. He'd written her to tell her he had a will and the deed to the ranch in a lock box at the bank. She managed to retrieve the documents before Cowen had a chance to get Woolsey to intercept. Anton had willed everything to Eme and transferred the deed to The Last Chance to her."

Sheppard leaned his elbows on the table, "What did Cowen do then?"

McKay scoffed, "Threw a fit, demanded the sheriff evict her, Evan refused and told Cowen the circuit judge would be in town within a week, and would ratify the will. Meanwhile, Eme buried her grandfather and moved into the ranch house. When the circuit judge arrived, he affirmed the documents and that Eme was the rightful owner."

"How did Anton die?"

Beckett shook his head, "He was badly beaten, his throat slit just like Tommy's. But unlike Tommy, he was found hanging by his hands from a tree outside his house."

Their conversation ended when Maddie and a helper brought their dinner. Sheppard concentrated on his steak, savoring every bite. After eating rabbit and other wild animals he hunted on his trek between towns, a well-cooked meal and good company gave him a sense of contentment, almost as if he belonged in Wickenburg.

That sense of well being lasted until a gruff voice interrupted their meal. "Doctor Beckett, McKay, nice to see you."

Sheppard looked up to see a tall man with short curly hair, dull blue eyes, and a craggy face staring at him. If a man's eyes were the gateway to his soul, then Sheppard realized that the man before him had no soul. His eyes were vacant, haunting, evil.

Beckett reacted first, "Cowen," but the man's name was the only word he uttered, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.

Cowen smiled, ignoring Beckett's tone, and addressed Sheppard, "So, you must be the man who stood up to my hands this morning. I'd like to thank you for intervening; the boys took my request to have Miss Spencer to join me for lunch a bit too literally."

Placing his dinner knife onto the table with a thud, Sheppard said quietly, "Grabbing a defenseless woman by her arms and beating on her young companion seems to be a bit more than literal, seems like assault to me." His words hung in the air for seconds before Cowen replied.

"You are right, Sheppard, and I have dealt with them for their behavior. I must say, I could use a man like you. I understand you're a drifter; if you want a job, just let me know," Cowen continued to smile, but his eyes resembled ice.

"I might just be passing through, Cowen, but I'm not looking for a job. Certainly not one like you're offering," Sheppard's voice was low, raspy, his meaning quite clear to all.

Cowen pursed his lips, his brow furrowing; when he spoke his tone was menacing, "If you change your mind, let me know; might be a smart move on your part." He looked around, spotting Mayor Woolsey arriving. "Well, gentlemen, my dinner companion has arrived." He looked back at Sheppard, "I'm certain our paths will cross again."

As Cowen turned to join Woolsey at a table across the room, McKay muttered, "I hate that man."

Sheppard leaned back in his chair, "Not liking him much myself."

The three men finished dinner and headed for the saloon. The player piano was tinkling away, and the saloon was crowded with miners and farm hands. They found a table, and a comely barmaid hurried over to take their order.

Sheppard noticed McKay looking around as if he was searching for someone, "Who you looking for, McKay?"

McKay looked embarrassed and didn't answer, but Beckett answered for him, "Ah…he's looking for a wee lassie, the pretty little Jennifer."

Chuckling lightly, Sheppard said, "I met her this afternoon, she is a pretty little thing."

His shoulders slumping, McKay said, "Great, she's not going to look at me now that you're in town."

"McKay, you gotta fight for what you want," Sheppard taunted as the barmaid brought their bottle of whiskey and three glasses. She ran her hand along Sheppard's arm.

"Anything else I can do for you, handsome."

Sheppard blushed slightly, "No, we're fine."

She leaned down, providing a clear view of her corseted chest, "Well…you just let me know and I'll take care of you."

McKay sighed, "See, I told you."

"Rodney, let it go; if you'd just talk to the wee lass, you might get somewhere. Now pass that bottle, I'm thirsty."

As Sheppard passed the bottle, he motioned for the barmaid to bring them a new pack of cards, "Let's play some poker, penny limit?"

Beckett laughed, "A friendly game; not going get rich that way laddie."

"Don't care about getting rich, doc, just like to play poker."

When the barmaid brought the cards, Sheppard asked, "Where's Jennifer?"

She pouted, "So it's Jennifer you're interested in; sorry to disappoint you, handsome; she's at the school teacher's house tonight. She's been studying with her." Still pouting, the barmaid walked away.

"Sorry, Rodney; tried to help." He and Beckett laughed, as McKay turned crimson.

The three men played late into the night, Sheppard winning most of the hands. McKay left first, saying he needed to unpack some merchandise that arrived on the stagecoach that day. Beckett said he head for his room above the surgery as soon as he finished his drink, while Sheppard decided to check on Pegasus before he returned to the hotel. Crossing the street, he ducked down a footpath between two buildings toward the alley; light from the full moon lighting his way. He was almost to the alley when he heard a scream coming from his left, away from the livery.

As he ran toward the scream, he could hear muffled sounds, which soon became the voices of two men.

"Bobby, get hold of her; I swear we got us a live one. She's gonna be fun."

"Get off of me…," a female voice cried out, quickly followed by the sound of hard slap, and ripping cloth. The voice belonged to Jennifer.

"Damn it, Bobby get hold of her legs. Oh, look at them breasts; now you little slut, I've got something to keep you quiet…open that mouth."

Sheppard pulled his gun from its holster and cocked it, "Let her go."

Before Sheppard could react, Bobby, the man forcing Jennifer's legs open dropped her and rushed Sheppard, knocking him to the ground. The two grappled, rolling on the ground. Bobby was large, inches taller than Sheppard and about thirty pounds heavier. His girth gave him an advantage, and he managed to land a couple of hard blows to Sheppard's jaw and abdomen before the quicker Sheppard managed to knee the bigger man in the groin and roll him over.

Stretching to reach his gun Bobby knocked from his hand, Sheppard grasped the cold metal with his fingertips and pointed the barrel toward the big man, "Don't move, or I'll shoot." He turned to the other man who had Jennifer by the hair, "Let her go, or you're both dead."

Bobby struggled to his feet, circling behind his companion, "Carl, let's get out of here."

Carl pushed Jennifer violently to the ground, and yelled to Sheppard, "You, you'll pay for this." The two attackers ran down the alley, disappearing into the darkness.

Sheppard rushed toward Jennifer, "Hey, you alright?" He helped her roll over, tugging her ripped blouse together to cover her.

Jennifer whispered, "Yeah, I...I'm good…I…"

"Stop right there; you let her go."

Sheppard turned to see one of Lorne's deputies standing in the ally, pointing a gun at him.

"Deputy, it's not what you think…" Sheppard was trying to explain but the young deputy was nervous, his gun shaking.

"I said, get away from her, or I'll shoot you."

Jennifer pleaded, "Dwayne, stop; John saved me. It was Bobby Trane and Carl Emerson; they attacked me."

"I don't care; you get away from her."

Running footsteps echoed through the alley and within seconds, Radek and Doc Beckett appeared. Beckett approached Dwayne, "Lower your weapon, Dwayne; John's a good guy."

Dwayne nodded and put his gun away, "I'm sorry; when I got here he was over her, pulling at her clothes."

Jennifer sniped, "He was being a gentleman and trying to cover me up. You should have listened to me."

Turning to John, Beckett explained, "Radek and I were outside the saloon when we heard the scream. I need to see to Jennifer."

Radek was already kneeling beside her; Beckett dropped to his knees next to Radek. "Lassie, you poor thing; let me look at you." He held the lantern he carried up to look at her face, revealing bruises, and cuts to her face and arms. "Oh, those bastards hurt you; did they…?"

"No, John got here before they…," she began to cry, leaning into Radek's arms.

Beckett stood up, "Radek, let's get her to my office," turning to Sheppard, "You too, laddie. You've got blood on you; I need to check you out as well."

They followed Beckett to his office, while Dwayne left to notify Sheriff Lorne about what happened. Beckett was still attending to Jennifer when Lorne arrived, slightly disheveled as if he had been roused from bed.

Spotting Radek and Sheppard sitting in the waiting room, the sheriff asked, "Is Jennifer okay? She just left the house about a half-hour ago." Obviously distressed, he chewed on his lower lip, "I should have walked her home, but I was tired and laid down for a bit. Laura was supposed to wake me up so I could walk Jennifer home."

Radek walked over to Lorne, "It is alright; Jennifer told me she insisted she could walk home alone. Lorne, you live on edge of town; I can almost see your house from here. Jennifer has walked alone at night before; she did not think she was in danger. Do not blame yourself; it is not your fault."

Lorne didn't seem convinced but turned to Sheppard, "You make a habit of saving women in distress?"

Shaking his head, Sheppard answered, "Just glad I was in the right place when I needed to be."

Still distressed, Lorne said, "It could have bee worse, over the last few years several barmaids from nearby towns have disappeared, never found 'em. Thank goodness, Jennifer didn't end up like one of them."

Radek nodded, "I am very grateful that you saved her from those men," shaking Sheppard's hand.

The door opened to the exam room, and Beckett escorted Jennifer into the waiting room. She was wearing what appeared to be one of the doctor's shirts. "Jennifer's going to be hurting for a while, she has some minor cuts, and a few serious bruises, but she'll be fine. I dressed the cuts and checked her over; there are no serious injuries. Radek, I'll stop by tomorrow around mid-day to see how she's doing."

Jennifer spotted Sheppard and uttering a soft cry, ran to him, giving him a hug, "Thanks, handsome John…you saved my life."

Sheppard seemed a bit taken back by the hug, awkwardly patting Jennifer on the back, "Just glad I came along at the right time."

As the door closed behind Radek and Jennifer, Beckett turned to Sheppard, "In the exam room now."

Motioning toward the exam table, "Sit up there laddie, let me see where that blood coming from, besides your nose and that cut on your lip."

Lorne had followed them into the exam room, "What happened, Sheppard?"

As Beckett began to clean his wounds, Sheppard answered, "I left the doc at the Lucky Strike and headed for the livery to check on my horse. Cut through that narrow gap between the barbershop and the butcher shop, just as I got to the alley, I heard a scream. Those guys were talking about what they were going to do to her, then I heard Jennifer's voice."

"How'd you know it was Jennifer?"

"Met her this morning, just after I got here; first stop was the saloon." Lorne nodded and Sheppard finished his story. "I pulled my gun, and yelled for them to stop…ouch…"

"Sorry, John, I know that probably stung," Beckett said as he wiped blood off Sheppard's cheek. "Laddie, you've got a cut on your jaw; I'm gonna need to trim some of this beard away to look at it."

"Go ahead, doc; I planned on getting a shave tomorrow. Where was I? Uh…I yelled for them to stop, but that big bastard tackled me before I could get a shot off and started beating on me. I managed to throw him off me and get to my gun. They took off, and your deputy showed up."

"Dwayne said Jennifer identified the men as Bobby Trane and Carl Emerson. Care to guess who they work for?" Lorne's expression was decidedly unhappy.

Sheppard grimaced as Beckett began shaving his beard from around his left jaw line and the wound, "I don't have to guess, do I?"

Lorne shook his head, "No... you don't need to ask. I'm gonna get my deputies and go out to Cowen's ranch and bring 'em in, if we can find them. Most likely, they headed the other way out of town, and we'll never see them again. Be nice if they turned out to be the ones responsible for the disappearance of those other women, but my gut tells me they aren't."

"Need help, sheriff?"

"No, Sheppard...you've done your share, you saved Jennifer. We'll do the rest." The sheriff tipped his hat and left.

As he cleaned the caked blood from Sheppard's face, Beckett asked, "When did you get into town?"

Sighing, Sheppard replied, "This morning, it just seems like an eternity."

"Well, you've certainly been at the center of things since you got here."

"And here I thought I'd get a real bed to sleep in, have a good meal, pick up some provisions, and be on my way."

"Sometimes things happen because they are supposed to happen. Maybe there's a reason you are here at this time; Jennifer certainly needed you and so did Emeline today."

"Doc, I haven't been needed in a very long time; don't have any intention of starting now."

Beckett turned to a cabinet and was gathering some supplies, "Everyone desires to be needed, John." He turned around, "The wounds not deep enough for stitches, just going to clean with a disinfectant and apply this plaster to cover it. You hurt anywhere else?"

"Just sore from being thrown around by that big thug, otherwise, I'm fine."

Doc Beckett placed a small plaster over the wound on his jaw. "Doctor's orders, I want you to head directly to the hotel and get some sleep, laddie. Stop by the office tomorrow morning, I want to see how you're feeling."

Before he returned to the hotel, Sheppard headed for the livery as he had intended to check on Pegasus. Nick, the stable hand was lying on a cot just inside the door, sound asleep, and didn't wake as Sheppard slipped past him to the stall where the big stallion was stabled.

Pegasus bobbed his head, neighing softly as Sheppard approached. Rubbing the horse's velvety snout he whispered, "Looks like Nick did a great job of grooming you, you look quite handsome; obviously, we both look better clean." The black horse nudged his shoulder, "I hope you're comfortable; we're staying a few days longer than I planned. A very pretty woman is in danger, and I don't want to leave until I know she's safe. I promise I'll take you out for a gallop tomorrow." After scratching Pegasus behind the ears, Sheppard headed for a much-needed night's sleep.

* * *

Hope you're enjoying Cowboy!Shep! I'll post Parts Three and Four tomorrow.


	3. Part Three

_**Part Three**_

Sheppard awoke, slowly opening his eyes; lacy curtains framing the open window stirred in the early-morning breeze casting patterns of pale light across the room. Last night, he had quickly stripped off his clothes and collapsed into bed, falling asleep immediately. Stretching, he savored the feel of the cotton sheets against his bare skin, he never slept in the nude on the trail, and he was enjoying the sensation.

What he wasn't enjoying was the pain in his right side, he pulled down the covers to find an enormous bruise just above his hipbone, no doubt from the big man, Bobby's, fist. He rolled slightly to his left, covered himself with the sheet and quilt, falling asleep again.

When Sheppard awoke the second time, bright sunlight flooded his room. He rose up, reaching for his pocket watch lying on the bedside table, surprised to see it was nearly nine in the morning. Sinking down into the feather pillows, he debated on whether to get up or stay in bed all day. Eventually, he convinced himself that he needed coffee and food, and got out of bed, dressing quickly.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Maddie leaving the dining room, "Still serving coffee and breakfast, or is it too late?"

"No, there's food left on the sideboard, and cookie just made another pot coffee," she grinned, "for sleepyheads like you." She was carrying a newspaper, which she handed to him, "Here; stagecoach from Tucson brought papers from back east."

He headed into the dining room, spotting the sideboard, where he helped himself to biscuits, saltback, and coffee, then sat at a table beside a front window. He was reading weeks-old news from the St. Louis paper when Doctor Beckett sank into the chair across from him, coffee in hand.

"Good morning, John; did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did; long time since I've slept that many hours and in a soft bed."

"Aye, sleeping in a soft bed is a good thing. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine; sore, but nothing I haven't dealt with before. How's Jennifer this morning?"

Beckett shook his head, "That little lassie is tough; I think she's shaken but you wouldn't know it. Radek's done a great job helping her grow up considering the background she had. She's smart, and she takes a lot of what happens to her in stride."

"I thought I heard last night that she's studying with Lorne's wife?"

"You heard right, there was no teacher when she was little, Radek taught her to read and count. She's over twenty now and was too embarrassed to go to school, so Laura's been teaching her at night."

"The Lorne's seem like good folk," Sheppard remarked.

"There are a lot of good folks in Wickenburg, John. You ought to think about staying."

Sheppard didn't speak while he pondered the doctor's remark, "Yeah, been thinking about settling somewhere, doc. Just don't know if Wickenburg is the place."

Beckett finished off his coffee, "I can see you're thinking about it, laddie; you might be surprised if you looked hard enough that this is the place for you." He stood up, "I've gotta get back to the surgery; you let me know if you need anything. I'll take a look at that cut on your face later, and change that plaster out."

Sheppard sat for another ten minutes, Beckett's words floating through his mind. He had found himself thinking about staying in Wickenburg, but wondered if his desire to stay had anything to do with the lovely Emeline Spencer. Standing up, he put on his hat, deciding he was going to have to find out.

First, Sheppard visited the barbershop to have his scraggly beard shaved. The barber, Walter, was a small man with round, wire-rimmed glasses, and he liked to talk. Waving Sheppard in the shop, he motioned for him to sit in the barber's chair.

"Well, now Mr. Sheppard, oh in case you're wondering I know your name cause Rodney told me all about you. First, I'm gonna trim most of this hair off, and then I'll give you a good shave, but I'll be careful about that wound. Doc Beckett will get angry if I hurt you worse."

As he trimmed Sheppard's beard, he rattled on about Doc Beckett and Rodney; how long they'd been in town, how good a healer Doc Beckett was, how Rodney had made a lot of money from the mercantile. He told about Radek's arrival, years before, having bought the saloon sight unseen. Then he began to tell Sheppard about Lorne coming from back east where he'd been a policeman but deciding that he wanted to live in the west. Walter said the town was a lot safer after Lorne arrived.

Knowing that barbers always seem to know all the gossip, he decided to see what Walter knew about Emeline Spencer. "Walter, what do you know about Anton LeMonde and his granddaughter?"

Walter smiled, "Ah…Anton LeMonde, what a head of hair he had, still dark and thick even at his age, only a bit of gray. He was a good man, came in for a shave, and cut about once a month, and he always brought me a cigar. I really don't like cigars but I smoked it anyway. It was a shame when he died, everyone thinks that Mr. Cowen had him killed but I don't know."

At Walter's use of mister to refer to Cowen, the only one in town who had called him that, Sheppard asked, "You know this Cowen well?"

Walter had pulled two steaming towels from a covered metal pot sitting on a wood stove, draping the hot cloths around Sheppard's face, careful of his wound. "Mr. Cowen comes in real regular, likes to keep his hair just so and I shave him a couple of times a week; he tips well. Now just relax while I sharpen this razor."

After listening to the slap of the razor against the leather strop for a couple of minutes, Sheppard mumbled from under the towel, "What about LeMonde's granddaughter?"

Walter pulled the towels away from Sheppard's face and began to spread lather across his cheeks and chin. "Miss Spencer sure is a beautiful woman. The whole town was taken by her when she got here the day after her grandfather was killed. Cowen offered to buy The Last Chance from her, but she wouldn't sell; said she's going to run the ranch the way her grandfather wanted. Now don't talk, Mr. Sheppard, I need to concentrate shaving you around that cut."

Sheppard waited until Walter finished shaving the left side of his face, then asked, "Where's The Last Chance located?"

"West of town on Main Street, then take the road to the right about a half-mile out of town, the ranch is about a mile down that road."

"Where's Cowen's ranch?"

"About two miles down the main road, past where you to go to Miss Spencer's place, Mr. Cowen's ranch is a bit further from the river. Now, when I'm done here, how 'bout a haircut, looks like you could use one."

"Yeah, a little trim couldn't hurt."

Thirty minutes later, Sheppard stepped onto the boardwalk, clean-shaven and chuckling. Walter, as most barbers did, had become quite frustrated by the cowlicks in his hair. He'd lived with them all his life, but his messy, spiky hair made barbers crazy. Walter suggested he wear his hat all the time; he'd heard that before. He stepped onto the dusty street, put on his Stetson, and headed for the livery.

Pegasus pawed at the ground, throwing up straw; Sheppard patted his velvety nose, "Told you I was going to take you out, no need to be impatient."

Nick helped him put the harness and saddle on the big stallion, who continued to display his annoyance. Sheppard filled his canteen with water from the well outside of the livery, mounted Pegasus, and rode west out of town.

Free from the confines of his stable, Pegasus was at a full gallop before they passed the last building at the edge of town. Sheppard felt his pulse begin to pound; he had ridden toward Emeline Spencer's ranch on purpose, but he was beginning to worry about what he would say if he saw her.

At the pace Pegasus was galloping, they reached the turn leading to The Last Chance within a short time; he curbed their pace to a trot as he turned onto the narrower dirt lane. The stallion whinnied noisily in protest; Sheppard leaned over, whispering in the horse's ear, "I know boy; I'll let you run as fast as you want on the way back."

Sheppard felt compelled to see the ranch, but he was unclear if it was because his interest was peaked due to Anton LeMonde's murder or if the lovely Emeline had something to do with his curiosity. The lane was lined with tall trees, nearly in full leaf. At one point, a well-worn, narrow path broke off from the main path. As they came to a bend in the lane, Sheppard slowed their pace to a leisurely walk. Rounding the corner, he saw that the tree line fanned out around an enormous open field, a fence followed the tree line as far as he could see. Over the lane, a wooden archway marked the gate, iron letters spelling out 'The Last Chance' fastened across the top of the arch.

He expected the farm to be rustic, but there was nothing rustic about the two-story farmhouse sitting on a small rise, a large veranda wrapped around the front and sides, a balcony along the second floor, large trees framing the house. He wondered which tree LeMonde was hanging from when his body was discovered. Ornate wrought iron enclosed the veranda and the second-floor balcony, giving the house a decidedly New Orleans ambiance. To the north of the house was what appeared to be a bunkhouse, further away a large horse barn, to the south, a smaller barn. From his vantage point, tucked in the tree line, he could see at least two paddocks; in one, several Appaloosas, Paints, and Quarter horses were grazing. The small wagon that Emeline and Chuck had ridden into town was sitting to the side of the house.

At some point, Sheppard realized he was holding his breath; even Pegasus seemed to sense that he wanted silence. He wasn't conscious of how long he stood hidden in the trees wondering what the lovely Emeline was doing at that moment. Deciding it was silly to hide and since he couldn't think of a good reason to ride up to her front door, he tugged on Pegasus' lead, and they headed toward the main road. Once around the bend, he lightly tapped the big horse's sides with his spurs; within seconds, they were racing down the lane.

Back in Wickenburg, he returned Pegasus to his stall, requesting Nick give the horse a good rub down along with extra oats. Sheppard decided it was time for his own oats and he headed for the hotel. Rodney and Doc Beckett were already in the dining room having lunch and waved him over.

Beckett pointed to him, "Barely recognized you laddie without that beard."

Sheppard sat down, rubbing his chin, "Feels a bit funny to me, been a while since I've had a shave." He peered at their plates, "That looks good."

Preening, Beckett said, "I gave Maddie me mum's recipe for pot pie and once a week, cookie makes them for me. Always a surprise as to what meat he uses, but today it's chicken."

Sheppard was looking around for the waitress who helped Maddie, when a plate holding a pot pie and a cup of coffee was set in front of him. Looking up, he saw Maddie smiling, "I had a feeling you'd be wanting one of these."

"Thanks, Maddie," Sheppard dug in, then raising his eyebrow approvingly, "This is good, Beckett."

Between bites, McKay asked, "What have you done this morning besides getting a shave?"

Sheppard didn't want to talk about riding to The Last Chance, so he didn't mention it, "Took my horse out for a run this morning, got almost to Cowen's ranch, but I turned around."

McKay mumbled, having taken a large bite of pot pie, "Your horse, that big black one in the livery?" Sheppard nodded, and McKay asked, "What kind of horse is he?"

Sheppard nodded, "His name's Pegasus and he's a Friesian."

Beckett looked surprised, "Those horses are from the Netherlands I think, how did you end up with one?"

Sheppard spun his coffee cup on the tabletop, wondering why it seemed so easy to tell the people in this town, things he never spoke about, "My father was a horseman, a hobby, but one he took seriously. He brought two Friesians mares from a breeder in the Netherlands, and one was in foal. Unfortunately, she died giving birth to him; I happened to home at the time, and I took a fancy to him. One of the other broodmares suckled him and when he was weaned, I bought him from my father."

"He's a beauty," Rodney mumbled again, a little gravy dripping from his chin, "I heard that Nick's been letting kids into the livery to get a peek at him."

Smiling Sheppard commented, "He does get his share of attention." He noticed Beckett watching him, "Doc, what's on your mind?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering why you rode west from town to exercise your horse. The east road is wider and straighter, the west road narrower and curves quite a bit. Something capture your attention out that way, John?"

Leaning back, Sheppard gazed at the good doctor for a few seconds before he answered, "What do you mean?"

Beckett started to speak but Rodney interrupted, "He means you seemed to like Emeline, and she seemed to like you, so he…."

"Rodney, I told you not to say that to John."

"Well, he looked like a love-sick puppy when he first saw Emeline, and I told you she looked back at him with the same look; they like each other."

"You are a nickey, Rodney McKay; what do you know about the attraction between two people? You can't even get up the courage to talk to Jennifer, other than to sputter nonsense like a school boy when you're around her."

McKay's chest puffed up a bit, his face reddening, as he glared at Beckett. Sheppard felt sorry for McKay and decided, once again, to reveal more of himself, "Doc, McKay's right; I won't deny that Emeline Spencer is very beautiful and quite intriguing."

"See, I told you, Carson," McKay retorted.

The doctor smirked at McKay, then addressed Sheppard's comment, "Emeline is beautiful and she's a fine woman, John; you could do worse."

Sheppard took a bite of his pot pie before he answered, "Playing matchmaker doesn't become you, doctor."

"Aye, laddie, a matchmaker I am not, but we know Emeline, which gives us an advantage; trust me, she needs you."

Sheppard's expression was dour, "I told you doc, I don't want to be needed."

"Everyone needs to be needed," Beckett uttered quietly, a faint, knowing smile on his face.

Sheppard took a gulp of coffee, and changed the subject, "Rodney...I'm gonna stop by later, need to stock up on some ammunition."

Wide-eyed, McKay sputtered, "You expecting trouble?"

"No, just used a lot of bullets hunting for food the last few weeks, need to replenish my ammo. Don't worry; I'm not going to start anything."

"Oh…okay, I'll fix you up," McKay answered, relief evident in his voice.

The three men finished lunch, and parted company. Sheppard took a quick detour to check on Pegasus, then headed for the saloon; he wanted to see how Jennifer was faring. The saloon was not as crowded as yesterday, he touched his hat with his finger in greeting to Radek, who was wiping down a table. He spotted Jennifer sitting with a pretty and very pregnant strawberry blond.

Jennifer smiled, "Hello, handsome John, come meet my teacher, Laura Lorne."

Laura Lorne smiled warmly, her clear blue eyes bright, "I believe we owe you a debt of gratitude for saving Jennifer from those men. As my husband seems to like you, Mr. Sheppard, I'll like you as well."

Tipping his hat to the lovely Mrs. Lorne, he answered uncomfortably, "Nothing to thank me for ma'am, glad I happened by in time." Noticing the math workbooks on the table, he added, "Don't let me disturb you, I only wanted to see how Jennifer was today." He hoped that his surprise at the schoolmarm being in the saloon wasn't noticeable.

Laura rose, "We're finished with our lesson; since planting season's underway, school is out for the summer. I thought it was better that we have our lessons during the day, while we can," patting her swollen abdomen, grinning. She appeared to sense Sheppard's surprise at her presence in the saloon and offered, "I suppose you are surprised to see the town's schoolteacher in the saloon. I don't judge people, and Radek runs a very proper establishment. Besides, my husband is the sheriff, so I think I'm safe." She gathered her things, "Jenny, finish your homework before tomorrow; I'll see you then. Mr. Sheppard, nice to meet you; I hope you'll stay in Wickenburg for a while, maybe you can come for dinner sometime?"

"Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Lorne, I appreciate it; nice to meet you as well."

As Laura left the saloon, Jennifer picked up her papers and linked her arm in Sheppard's, "I didn't have a chance to thank you," she smiled sweetly at him, "so, thanks." Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek, then ran a fingertip across his chin, "Um…nice and smooth; come on, I want you to teach me to play poker."

"Why me?"

"Because, I think you can teach me how to be cunning and win without cheating."

Sheppard scoffed, "What makes you think I don't cheat at cards?"

Jennifer grinned impishly, "Because you want people to think you're just a drifter without a care in the world, but I think underneath you care about people. People who care about people don't cheat them."

She spun away from him, going to the bar to retrieve a deck of cards, as Sheppard followed her to a table in the corner, he thought Doc Beckett was right, Radek Zelenka had raised her well.

They spent the next three hours playing poker, occasionally only the two of them, sometimes one of the regulars would sit in on a hand. Sheppard found Jennifer to be a quick study, with a sharp mind; they had just finished a hand where she had bluffed Sheppard and taken the pot, a few pennies.

Sheppard was shuffling the cards, "You certain that you haven't played before?"

"No, but I've watched a lot of poker played in here." She pointed to a group of miners who had been playing when Sheppard arrived in town the day before. "Those boys play nearly every day."

"Tell me, what is it you want to do with your life; you seem awfully interested in learning."

A pensive look crossed her face, "I…I don't want to be known for what my momma did. I'd like to teach maybe, like Mrs. Lorne does, or maybe run a hotel like Miss Emeline or Miss Maddie."

"I thought all young women wanted to marry and have babies."

She gave Sheppard a furtive glance, "I…I don't think any man in this town would want to marry me."

"Really, you're not interested in anyone in town; not even a nice shopkeeper?"

Jennifer blushed, "You…you mean Rod…Rodney?"

He raised an eyebrow mischievously, "So, you do know he's smitten with you."

"You really think that…oh…" Jennifer stammered as she took in Sheppard's words.

"Yes, I think…," Sheppard stopped as Walter the barber ran into the saloon.

"Anyone seen the sheriff, there's trouble at the bank."

Sheppard jumped to his feet, "What kind of trouble, a robbery?"

"No, Cowen and Miss Emeline, they're having a huge fight…"

That was all Sheppard heard as he exited the saloon at a dead run. As soon as his boots hit boardwalk, he saw Cowen and two of his thugs surrounding Emeline and the young man who was with her the day before in front of the bank; his spurs jangled loudly as he raced toward them. As he got closer, he could hear Cowen's words.

"It's in your best interest to do what I say, Emeline. It would be so much smarter of you to marry me and let me take care of The Lucky Chance; otherwise, you might find running that ranch a bit difficult."

Emeline laughed, "Marry you…I'd sooner marry a horse than marry you. I can take care of The Last Chance all by myself." She attempted to push her way past him, but the much larger Cowen roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him.

"You are a little fool, and if you don't agree to marry me, you won't have a ranch to tend to for much longer." His voice was menacing, cold, his knuckles turning white as his grip on her arm tightened.

"Stop, you're hurting me."

When Cowen laughed at her plea, Emeline struck him hard across the face with her free hand. Pure rage evident on his face, he drew back his hand intending on returning the slap when a strong hand grabbed his forearm; the cold barrel of a Colt Peacemaker pressed against his temple.

"Let her go."

There was no mistaking Sheppard's tone; his voice was even, low, raspy, and he was deadly serious. "I said...let her go, or you won't be tending your own ranch, Cowen."

One of Cowen's two henchmen was restraining Chuck, the young man who had been with Emeline the day before. Throwing Chuck to the ground, the man started to rush Sheppard. Chuck reacted quickly, throwing his legs out and tripping the man. He wasn't so lucky with Cowen's other thug, who drew his weapon and jumped onto the boardwalk, shoving his gun into Sheppard's back.

"You let him go, or I'll kill ya right here."

Sheppard spun around, bending Cowen's arm behind his back, using Cowen's bulk to knock the other man to the boardwalk. He repositioned the gun to Cowen's neck. "Now call your dogs off, and I'll let you walk away."

A voice broke through the low murmuring from the gathered crowd, "Cowen, do what he says, or I'll let him do what he wants." Sheriff Evan Lorne stepped up on the boardwalk. "Eme, do you want me to charge him with assault?"

Emeline was rubbing her arm, a grimace on her face, "I just want him to leave us alone."

Lorne caught Sheppard's eye and with a subtle nod, Sheppard released Cowen and roughly pushed him away, quietly saying, "I don't like bullies, you hurt her again, and I'll kill you."

Cowen straightened his tan frock coat, his face a mask of rage, "You'll pay for this."

Sheppard glared darkly at Cowen, "I'm waiting."

Cowen stalked away with his men, heading toward the mining office, while Lorne's deputies disbursed the crowd. Sheppard stepped off the boardwalk where Emeline was talking to Chuck. She turned as he approached, as though she sensed him.

"I seem to be making a habit of thanking you for protecting me." She was trembling, but her soft, sultry voice was strong. Looking into her dark-green eyes, Sheppard felt his heart pounding; he needed to keep her safe.

"Glad to be of service, ma'am." He looked at Chuck, "You okay?" The young man nodded, and Sheppard turned back to Emeline, who was rubbing her arm where Cowen had grabbed her. "You should have Doc Beckett look at that."

"I'm alright; I just need to finish my business in the bank, and then Chuck, and I can return to the ranch."

Beckett had arrived, "No, lassie, John's right; I need to look at that arm. Now you and Chuck come with me and let me do my job." Beckett led them away, Sheppard watching intently.

"John…John…"

Sheppard realized that Lorne was talking to him, "Sorry…I…"

Lorne chuckled, "I know; I'm happily married to a beautiful woman, but Emeline…, well." He sighed, "You have to realize that you just made an enemy."

"I might have made him angry."

"Cowen doesn't like to be embarrassed."

"And I don't like bullies who get away with it." Sheppard glared at Lorne, "Why didn't you arrest him?"

"I couldn't since Emeline wouldn't press charges; besides the criminal judge is on his payroll, would've let him go."

Sheppard sighed deeply, "This is going to escalate, sheriff; so what do we do about it?"

"We…you joining in the fight?"

"I'm not leaving here until I know she's…uh…the town's safe from Cowen."

Lorne shook his head knowingly, "That's what I thought. Look, Cowen's not done with you; you humiliated him in front of the townsfolk. He's not going to take that lightly."

"I know he won't, but my fear is that he won't take his anger out on me." Sheppard took off his hat, running his hand through his hair, "My fear is that he'll go after Emeline to retaliate."

"I'm gonna send a deputy to the ranch to inform Ramon and Paul what's gone on here, and help keep watch for Cowen's men."

"Emeline should stay in town until we see what Cowen's going to do."

Scoffing, Lorne replied, "Good luck with that, John. Emeline possesses the same stubborn trait as her grandfather; doubt she'll agree to stay in town while we deal with Cowen."

"We can try," Sheppard placed his hat on his head, "Want to go with me to Doc Beckett's?"

Lorne nodded his head, giving Sheppard a tight grin, "Might as well; I'd like to watch you try to convince her to stay in town."

As the two men entered Beckett's surgery, Emeline Spencer's angry voice greeted them through the open door to the exam room. "Doctor, I am not going to let Cowen win."

"Eme, you've been fortunate that nothing bad has happened since you took over the ranch. Yesterday and today, you were lucky that John was nearby; and that you have only suffered a bad bruise from today. I fear things are only going to get worse."

"Doc's right, Eme; things are going to get worse." Lorne said quietly.

Emeline was sitting on the exam table, rolling down the left sleeve of her blue blouse. She turned toward the voice, finding Lorne and Sheppard standing in the doorway. "I am well aware that this is going to get worse, but I will not give in to Cowen's demands. I just won't," despite her defiance, her expression was grim.

Sheppard stepped into the room, "No one is asking you to give in, Miss Spencer, but the sheriff is right, Cowen's angry, and there is no telling what his next move will be."

Emeline started to jump down from the exam table, but Sheppard intervened and picked her up, putting her onto the floor. For a brief moment, she clung to him before pushing him away and murmuring thanks.

"Gentlemen I appreciate your concern, but I need to get to the bank, and then we need to return to the ranch." She moved to leave, but Sheppard stepped in front of her.

"You are in grave danger, and the sheriff and I think you need to stay in town tonight."

"No, I'm going home."

Beckett interjected, "You should listen to them, lassie."

Lorne smiled, "You can stay with us, Laura would love to have you."

"Evan, Laura's going to give birth very soon, she needs to rest and not be bothered with company. I'll be fine, don't worry."

Sheppard felt exasperation building; just as Lorne said, Emeline was not going to listen to reason. He decided to try another tactic, if he could get her to delay, then he and Lorne would have time to determine how best to keep her in town until they dealt with Cowen. Her reluctance to release him when he helped her from the exam table told him she was seeking support, or maybe she was looking for something else. No, he told himself, he wouldn't think about that.

"Miss Spencer, why don't you stay in town long enough for Lorne to send a deputy along with Chuck to out to check on things, let your people know that Cowen's men might try something. Once there is security in place, Lorne and I will take you home in the morning."

"I…I...," she gazed at Sheppard, "I don't like letting him win, and if I don't go home, Cowen wins."

"No, if something happens to you, Cowen wins; we are going to keep him from winning and keep you safe."

Beckett patted Emeline on the shoulder, "Listen to John, let Lorne make certain you have protection, then you can go home."

Lorne spoke up, "I'm going to send Dwayne and Clyde out to the ranch with Chuck, they'll tell Ramon, Paul, and Julio what's happened so they can start keeping watch. Are you certain that you won't stay with Laura and me?"

"No, besides, if Cowen tries anything, I don't want Laura anywhere near me."

Smiling, Lorne replied, "Laura wouldn't be worried, but I understand." He turned to John, "Would you escort Emeline to the hotel, so she can get a room for the night?"

"My pleasure, sheriff; Miss Spencer, shall we?" He swept an arm toward the door; she nodded and walked out, Sheppard following.

Emeline insisted on finishing her banking business, and Sheppard accompanied her. She spent nearly a half-hour with Woolsey, reading then signing several papers. Waiting near one of the windows looking onto Main Street, Sheppard was certain he spotted a couple of men who had been nearby when Cowen's men accosted Emeline the day before; most likely, more of his thugs. He was convinced Cowen was planning something; they needed to be ready.

The sun was very low in the sky, and Sheppard wanted Emeline in the hotel and safe before nightfall. She had turned toward the mercantile, but he stopped her.

"If you need anything from Rodney's, we can go there in the morning. It's almost dark; I need to get you to the hotel."

Emeline glowered at Sheppard but agreed, and they walked to the hotel, where Sheppard requested a room for Emeline as close to his as possible. Maddie, who had already heard about the incident with Cowen, gave her Room 205 next door.

"How 'bout dinner; you need to eat," Sheppard asked as they walked toward the stairs.

She smiled, "I am actually hungry; let me freshen up, and I'll join you in the dining room."

Sheppard watched her ascend the steps, his heart pounding; being close to her was clouding his rationale of why he had decided to become involved. He did hate bullies, but he realized he cared for her more; it had been a very long time since he felt the emotions he was feeling now.

He entered the dining room and sat a table near an open window. The late spring night was unusually balmy, occasional flashes of lightning and muffled thunder reached his ears. He was lost in thoughts about settling down, when Emeline arrived. He stood up and held out her chair.

"A hero and gentleman, not a combination one sees very often in this part of the world Mr. Sheppard."

He pushed her chair under the table, then sat down, "No hero but my mother would have insisted on my being a gentleman, and please, call me John."

"I want to thank you…John; please call me Emeline. I'm very sorry that you had to become involved this afternoon. Cowen caught me as I was entering the bank when he was departing. The smart thing to do was walk away, but my grandfather taught me when I was very young not to run from my troubles."

"Cowen is more than trouble, Emeline; he's vicious and will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"And what he wants is my land."

"Not just your land, he wants you."

"Well, that is not going to happen." She sighed, "I'm certain that Doctor Beckett or Evan has told you that I arrived the day after my grandfather was killed. Cowen was already plotting to take the ranch by the time I got here. If it weren't for Evan, along with Doc Beckett, intervening, he would have succeeded. I'm not going to allow him to take what Papere worked so hard to build."

"Papere?"

She gave him a coy smile, "We are Cajun; 'papere' is what I called him, it means grandfather."

They were interrupted by the waitress, after giving their order, Sheppard asked, "What did your grandfather tell you about Cowen? Did you know how serious the situation was when he last contacted you?"

Emeline's eyes widened slightly, a haunted look crossing her lovely face. "Mr. Shep…John…my grandfather's last letter to me was disturbing; he was angry, worried, even though he didn't actually say it with words, I knew he was in trouble. He mentioned Cowen and told me that he was certain that vile man was behind the troubles he was having."

"From what I've been told, you have Chuck, who I've met, and three other hands. The ranch is big, that may not be enough to fend off Cowen's men."

"I suppose I could hire mercenaries to protect the ranch, but that's not the answer either. I just want to keep my grandfather's dream alive. My only choice is to keep going."

Sheppard didn't reply immediately; he took a moment to assess the beautiful woman sitting across from him. She had redone her hair in what he thought was called a French Twist, but tendrils had escaped and framed her face in soft curls. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, sparkling in the glow of the burning candles on the table.

Before he could speak, Maddie appeared with their food, two plates of chicken and dumplings, and hot cornbread. They ate for a few moments in silence, both hungrier than they realized, or Sheppard thought, both hiding behind the meal, so they didn't have to discuss Cowen.

After a few bites, Emeline put down her fork and asked, "Why are you helping me? Doc Beckett said you just arrived in Wickenburg yesterday, and that you are just passing through. I don't understand why you got involved."

He wasn't certain how to answer her. If he told her the complete truth that he was enamored with her and was attempting to remain unemotional about her with little success, would he frighten her? He decided against being completely honest.

"I don't like bullies; I've seen Cowen's type too many times. Men like Cowen will not stop until they get what they want or until someone stops them. So, I'm going to help the sheriff stop him."

She picked up her fork, and stared at her plate, moving a piece of chicken back and forth in the thick broth. "What makes you think you can stop him? Evan is a good sheriff; he's not afraid of Cowen, but I don't believe he can stop him."

"There's a difference, Emeline; Evan has the entire town to worry about. I can concentrate on you and your ranch."

They finished their meal, and Sheppard suggested that they step out onto the boardwalk. The early spring storm was closer and the lightning was putting on quite a show. He and Emeline had just sat down on the bench in front of the hotel when the clatter of a fast-moving wagon echoed over the thunder. As the wagon sped past, driven by Dwayne the deputy, Emeline sprang from the bench.

"That's my wagon."

Before Sheppard could react, she had jumped onto the street and was running toward the wagon, which has stopped outside of Doc Beckett's surgery. He rushed to catch up. When he reached the wagon, Emeline was climbing into the back.

"What's going on…?" He stopped when he saw two badly beaten young men lying in the wagon.

Emeline spoke to the man who was conscious, "Paul, what happened?"

The pale young man, his face bloodied, spoke haltingly, "We were fixing a broken…fence row in the northwest field w-when six men rode up." He stopped to spit out blood, "They told us they were gonna…teach you a lesson."

"Enough, stop talking cher," Emeline turned to Sheppard, her eyes filled with tears, "Help me."


	4. Part Four

**Part Four:**

Emeline Spencer was pacing and no amount of cajoling by the sheriff or Sheppard would convince her to sit. After several more minutes, Sheppard finally had enough, "Emeline, sit down; you're wearing yourself out." When she glared at him, he walked over to her, grasped her arm, and sat her in a chair. "Now stay put until Doc Beckett comes out of there." She glared again but didn't argue and didn't move.

Sheppard understood her frustration; it seemed like an eternity since Doc Beckett had rushed out of his office to tend to the injured men, directing Sheppard and Dwayne to carry Ramon into the exam room, while he assisted Paul from the wagon. Sheppard then sent Dwayne to get Lorne, who arrived minutes later.

Emeline, with Sheppard's help, had cleaned the cuts on Paul's face and hands, and bandaged them lightly until Beckett could tend to him. Paul now rested on a cot in a room Beckett used for overnight patients.

Sheppard was tempted to begin pacing himself as the minute dragged on. Cowen's thugs had beaten up two young men who were simply going about doing their jobs. That fact was bad enough but the message Paul repeated was seared into his brain, _'They told us they were gonna…teach you a lesson.'_ Cowen went too far; he targeted Emeline through her trusted hands, and Sheppard was not going to allow him to get away with that behavior.

The minutes ticked slowly by until Beckett emerged from the examination room, drying his hands. "Emeline, Ramon has a slight concussion, took a nasty blow to the head, and he's badly bruised. I don't suspect he has internal injuries, but I want to watch him overnight. The good news is that he regained consciousness for a few minutes, said to tell you he got in a couple of good punches. I think he's gonna be fine, just need to keep an eye on him." Beckett put his arm around her, "I'm gonna go tend to Paul; you let John take you back to the hotel. If Ramon's better in the morning, they can both return to the ranch."

"No, I want to stay here with them."

"Not necessary, lassie; they'll be fine. I'll be staying with them all night."

Lorne spoke, "I'm assigning Dwayne to keep watch. Doc's right about you needing to go get some rest."

"I'm not leaving until you've tended to Paul; I need to know he's alright."

"Then come with me and let's take a look at him," Beckett stood up, extending his hand to assist her to her feet.

As they left the waiting room, Sheppard turned to Lorne, "You think the deputy, Chuck, and the other hand will be enough protection on the ranch."

"Should be, Julio's a good shot and Conchita's a better shot than her husband according to Anton. I don't know; Cowen's bound and determined to get that ranch, but I think he'll lay low until he sees how this attack plays out."

Sheppard didn't reply; he was lost in thought for a moment. Lorne seemed to sense that Sheppard was formulating a plan and remained quiet. When Sheppard did speak, his voice focused and taut, "I have an idea."

Sheppard and Lorne were speaking quietly when Emeline and Beckett returned to the waiting room. Beckett spoke, "Paul's fine, just bruised and going to be sore for a while. I don't believe their attackers meant to kill these boys. According to Paul, Ramon's injury came when he fell after being hit, striking his head on a rock."

Lorne shook his head, "Nothing but a message."

"A message meant for me," Emeline uttered darkly.

Sheppard spoke softly, "We're going to put an end to this I promise."

"Well, laddie, we can't do anything more tonight, would you please take Emeline to the hotel, so she can get some rest." When Emeline started to protest, Beckett stopped her, "Do what I say; the boys are going to be fine."

Holding out his arm, Sheppard smiled slightly, "Doctor's orders, let's get you to the hotel." Emeline slipped her arm in his and Sheppard escorted her to the hotel and to her room.

At her door, he whispered, "I'm right next door, don't worry; Cowen is not going to hurt you."

Emeline turned to him, "I know." Before she entered the room, she reached up touching his cheek, "Thank you." As the door closed behind her, Sheppard lingered a moment before retiring to his room.

~ooOoo~

Early the following morning, Sheppard was waiting for her in the dining room as they had arranged. After insisting she eat, they had coffee and biscuits, then walked to the surgery.

Doc Beckett was sitting at his desk; he smiled when they entered, "Good news, Ramon is conscious and alert; he's fine to go home. He and Paul ate all their breakfast…oatmeal, don't think either is up to chewing a lot at the moment."

"That's good news, doctor; thank you so much for all you have done," Emeline hugged him.

Sheppard cleared his throat, "Emeline, I'm going to tell Lorne you're ready to return to the ranch; he's going to go with you." He hesitated, "Then I'm leaving Wickenburg."

She uttered a small gasp. "Leaving? What do you mean you're leaving?"

His face was impassive, "Time for me to go."

"I…I thought," her breathing was shallow.

He tipped his hat, "Lorne will look after you; good luck." Sheppard turned on the heel of his boot and walked out of the surgery toward the sheriff's office.

Several minutes later, Lorne brought the wagon to Beckett's office, Dwayne on horseback behind him, holding the reins to Lorne's bay quarter horse. The men helped Ramon and Paul into the wagon. Beckett was helping Emeline into the front of the wagon, when Sheppard, riding Pegasus, emerged from the alley and galloped east out of town.

She halted, watching the tall rider and his magnificent horse as they disappeared from view. She dropped her head, but not before Beckett noticed a tear trailing down her cheek. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, Eme everything will be fine."

Emeline gave the doctor a shaky smile, "I hope you're right, Carson."

Lorne glanced at Beckett, giving him a knowing nod as he picked up the reins, "Emeline, let's get you back to The Last Chance."

~ooOoo~

Pegasus was running like the wind down the broad road leading east from Wickenburg. Sheppard wished he could expend the energy his horse was, anything to forget the look in Emeline's eyes as he told her he was leaving. Forcing her image from his mind, he kept a lookout for the landmark Lorne told him about, which would lead him to his destination.

~ooOoo~

As Lorne drove the wagon under the archway toward the ranch house, a large black-and-white dog came running to greet them. Wagging a shaggy tail, the dog barked at the two horses pulling the wagon, then scampered up the lane ahead of them. Lorne parked the wagon next to the bunkhouse, where Julio, Chuck, and Clyde were waiting for them. The men helped Ramon and Paul to their bunks.

Emeline was tucking them in as Conchita appeared with fresh biscuits, honey, and coffee for the injured men. "Thanks, Conchita." She turned to Ramon and Paul, "Are you certain that you want to stay in the bunkhouse? You are welcome to stay in the house while you recuperate."

Paul shook his head, "Ma'am, the doc said I can work tomorrow; I feel fine, just sore. Ramon needs a couple more days than me."

"Si, Señorita Emeline, I can work now."

"No, you aren't working now; both of you eat the biscuits Chita bought and then rest." She turned to leave, but looked back at them, "Thank you. I am so sorry you got caught in this."

"Don't worry, Miss Eme," Paul said, "we're here to stay."

Joining Lorne and his deputies outside, Emeline sighed deeply as the shaggy dog ran to her, "Did you miss us, Otis?" She rubbed the big dog's head, prompting a flurry of tail wagging.

Dwayne handed Lorne his horse's reins. The sheriff told Emeline, "We're going to head back to town, but we'll be back to check on you. I don't think Cowen's going to try anything like this again; I promise you'll be fine here."

Emeline nodded, "We will be fine; thanks for your help, Evan."

Lorne and his deputies mounted their horses and headed back to town. Emeline turned to Chuck, Julio, and Conchita, "Look's like we're on our own. I'm going to change clothes, been in these far too long."

"We take care of horses, senorita," Julio said as he and Chuck began to unhitch the horses from the wagon. Conchita went back inside the bunkhouse.

Emeline started walking toward the front of the main house, Otis trotting along beside her. As they got closer, Otis began to bark and ran out of sight; a few seconds later, he reappeared, wagging his tail wildly, then disappeared again. As she rounded the corner of the house, she called to the dog, "Otis, what's gotten into you?"

"Friendly dog, but not much of a watchdog; all he wants to do is play."

Emeline stopped in her tracks at the deep voice speaking from her veranda. Sitting in one of the rocking chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him, was John Sheppard.

"What…what are you doing here? I…I thought…"

He descended the steps, "I'm sorry, but there wasn't any other way. Cowen had men in town watching you; we had to make it look like I'd left, and you were unprotected. Lorne and I decided we had to be convincing, so I couldn't tell you. I needed you to have a natural reaction to hearing I was leaving Wickenburg."

She stared at him for a moment, then exploded, "Really, you and Evan Lorne decided how I needed to behave. You didn't trust me that I could react the way I needed to, or tell me that I was being watched." She stormed up the stairs, "I'm not a child, and I expect you not to treat me like one."

Taking two steps at a time, Sheppard caught up with her, blocking her way to the front door, "I'm very much aware that you are not a child. I said I was sorry, but Cowen's not going to give up. So we need to make him come to us, and play out his hand so that we can end this."

He held his breath; she was trembling, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, let her know that he would protect her, but he couldn't. It wasn't the right time; Cowen had to be dealt with, then he would deal with what he was feeling.

Emeline asked, her voice soft, "You really think you can end this?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then we end it."

Emeline slipped around him, into the house without another word. Sheppard sat back down in the rocker, Otis sitting down next to him. Scratching the dog's ears, he spoke to him, "Otis, this is going to be interesting."

The bunkhouse was unlike any Sheppard had seen before; it was a large, rambling building. One end held two adjoining rooms with a separate doorway, where Julio and Conchita lived. The hands Ramon and Paul slept in a room that held four bunks, and there were two private rooms, one on each side of the dormitory with private entrances. Chuck unlocked the room at the end and handed Sheppard the key.

Walking in, Sheppard tossed his saddlebags onto wide bunk bed and looked around. In addition to the bed, there was a chest of drawers, along with a small table and a couple of chairs. "Private entrance, a door that locks, this is the nicest bunkhouse I've ever seen," he remarked.

Chuck laughed, "Ramon always kidded Mr. Anton that the only reason he stayed was the comfortable bed and Conchita's cooking. He took good care of us; we miss him." Then he quickly added, "But…Miss Emeline, she's real good to us, and we'd do anything for her."

Sheppard agreed, "She seems like a good person."

"Sir…," Chuck swallowed, "You came to our rescue twice; I think they would have taken her that first time. Thank you for helping; Cowen's a bad man and she needs someone to protect her. I mean, we'd protect her if it cost our lives, but I don't think any of us can handle Cowen. "

"The sheriff and I can't fight him alone; we're going to need all of you."

"Then you got us; she was special to Mr. Anton, she's special to us."

"We'll take care of her; in the meantime, what needs to be done around here? With Paul and Ramon injured I imagine there are plenty of chores to do.

"Yes, sir; stalls need mucking, and we're about ready to harvest some of the winter crops. Potatoes, onions, parsnip, beets, cabbage, and the like are almost ready. We plant different things all year due to the weather. With so many ranchers and miners in the area, plus the hotel, we've done pretty good selling vegetables once a week in town. Miss Emeline plans to grow chili plants like the chilies Conchita cooks with; she thinks they will do well here. Paulie breaks the horses with Julio's help after we've done a roundup, Ramon and I tend to the fields and the plantings along with Miss Eme and Chita's help. We have all our meals in the main house kitchen; at night, we play cards or tell tall tales." Chuck laughed, "Ramon tells lots of tales, he's from Puerto Rico, and he likes to tell stories about pirates."

Sheppard was stripping off his jacket and vest, grabbing an old shirt from a saddlebag. He changed, then looked at Chuck, "Come on, let's go muck some stalls."

They walked into the large horse barn and Pegasus immediately whinnied. Chuck approached the big stallion, "That's some horse, Mr. Sheppard."

"Yes he is and please, call me John."

"I will, Mr. John."

Sheppard shook his head, "No, just John."

Chuck smiled and began to ask questions about Pegasus. They spent the next couple of hours cleaning stalls, spreading fresh hay and straw, and getting to know each other. Sheppard learned that a year after he settled in Wickenburg LeMonde discovered Chuck hiding in a copse of trees, the burned-out hulk of a covered wagon nearby, his parents and older brother dead, victims of an Indian raid. Le Monde buried the dead and gave the young boy a home on The Last Chance. Sheppard thought about Radek, who had raised Jennifer, then LeMonde, who had taken in Chuck, and realized Beckett was right, there were some good folks in Wickenburg.

In a stall near Pegasus was a small chestnut and white Paint mare, barely fourteen hands high. She had backed into a corner, Sheppard certain she was keeping an eye on the big stallion in the end stall.

Sheppard asked, although he was certain he already knew the answer, "Who does the little Paint belong to?"

"That's Bebette, Miss Emeline's horse; she's a sweet little thing with a stubborn streak."

Scoffing, Sheppard muttered, "Just like her rider."

Chuck nodded, "Yes, sir."

After they finished in the barn, Chuck led Sheppard behind the house through a side iron gate onto a thick lawn. Stone walkways radiated from a small center pond where a life-size, marble sculpture of a woman clad in a flowing Grecian gown stood. The lawn was enclosed by tall wrought iron fencing, a gate leading to a huge field beyond.

Sheppard whistled, "Now that's not something you see everyday out here."

Shaking his head, Chuck said, "Mr. Anton never got over leaving New Orleans; had all this brought out here to give himself a little feel of home."

The image of a wood and stone house on a ranch in Maryland flashed through Sheppard's mind, the grassy paddocks, the huge stone fireplace where he sat beside his mother when she read to him. He understood the need for reminders of home. He glanced at Chuck, remarking, "Anton LeMonde was a complicated man."

"Complicated and a bit eccentric, but he was a good man." Chuck took a deep breath and pointed to the gate, "Outside the gate is the field where we grow vegetables; beyond that field is where we grow hay. We'll walk out there later, and I'll show you the irrigation system that Mr. Anton installed a few years ago, really increased our yield."

"Sounds like you enjoy farming, Chuck."

"Yes, sir, I do; I…" He stopped when the dinner bell rang. "Come on, Conchita has lunch ready."

The men entered the house through the small, enclosed back porch, which opened into a large kitchen. Ramon and Paul sat at a substantial wooden table that dominated the center of the room. Julio was placing plates on the table, while Emeline helped Conchita dish out food into bowls. At the sound of the door opening, Emeline turned and Sheppard saw her take a small breath, or maybe the breath was his. She was dressed in a white scooped-neck peasant blouse, and a full skirt made of gold and brown patterned fabric, a red sash around her waist. Her long dark hair loosely platted, tied with a black satin ribbon, gently framed her face. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Sheppard walked up to Conchita, "Something smells wonderful, tamales?"

Conchita beamed, "Si, señor, tamales."

"I love tamales," he smiled, then glanced at Emeline; she was watching him with amusement.

As Conchita took the tray of tamales to the table, Emeline whispered, "Quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"Am I?"

She gazed at him, but only gave him a sly smile; she handed him a bowl of rice, taking the beans to the table herself.

They ate heartily; Conchita was a superb cook, and she took quite an interest in making certain that Sheppard had his share of the tamales. Ramon even teased her that he was no longer her favorite, causing both the tiny woman and Sheppard to blush.

The lunch conversation was light-hearted but Sheppard knew that the pall of Cowen hung in the air. He decided it was time to discuss the situation they were facing.

"Everyone, I don't have to tell you that we have a problem, a big problem by the name of Cowen. No doubt Cowen's thugs are the ones who beat up these two," pointing to Ramon and Paul. "Both the sheriff and I think that Cowen is becoming more than interested in acquiring the ranch, he is also becoming obsessed with Emeline. That's why I'm here, to protect Emeline, and why I pretended to leave town this morning. Cowen will find out I'm still around soon enough, but for the moment, we have the element of surprise."

Paul asked, "You're certain that Cowen's going to make trouble?"

Nodding, Sheppard replied, "I've known a lot of men like Cowen. Ruthless, power hungry men, who think they are entitled to whatever they desire," he glanced at Emeline, "and have no qualms about hurting anyone who gets in the way."

Julio shuddered, "He is bad man."

"Yes, he is," Sheppard replied. To the others he said, "Boys, he's not gonna like it, but I need to keep Pegasus out of sight for now. He's temperamental, doesn't like anyone but me riding him, so don't try to take him out of his stall. I'll exercise him when I can."

Chuck seemed apprehensive, "What do you need for us to do?"

"Stay alert for anyone approaching the ranch, and I want someone with Emeline all the time."

"I don't need a keeper," Emeline bristled; she rose, starting to clear the dishes, until Conchita pushed her back into the chair.

"No, no…señorita, I do dishes."

Sheppard glanced toward Chuck, tilting his head slightly; pleased that the young man understood he wanted to be alone with Emeline. Chuck pushed back from the table, "Julio, let's get these guys back to the bunkhouse." As he left, Chuck tugged at Conchita's sleeve, motioning for her to come with him, leaving Emeline and Sheppard alone.

Emeline was clearly annoyed, "That was subtle."

Sheppard leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. He would have laughed at Emeline's comment if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"I must say, no one has ever accused me of being subtle."

"I don't need to be followed around like a small child. Cowen won't come here; he knows he's not welcome."

Sheppard straightened up, resting his elbows on the table, "Don't make the mistake of underestimating him, Emeline. Cowen may truly desire this land, but that's not the only thing he desires. He wants you, and I doubt he's going to give up until he has you."

She rose from her chair, walking to the window overlooking the lawn. Leaning against the glass, she folded her arms across her chest, "When I received the letter from Papere, I realized he was having difficulties, but I never expected…"

"Some men are bad, Emeline."

She uttered a sarcastic laugh, "I am well aware that some men are bad. Tell me John Sheppard, what kind of man are you?"

He shrugged, "I'm just a man, not always good, but not always bad."

"Do you really think that Cowen will come to the ranch?"

"Yes, I do, and so does Lorne; that's why I'm here."

Emeline didn't reply; she turned back toward the window. Sheppard waited until she decided to speak.

"If you think I need protection, even here, then alright, I…," she turned to look at him, "I'll listen to you."

"Just make certain that for now that one of us is with you when you're outside, and I don't want you going off this ranch without me."

Emeline walked to the table and began clearing the remaining dishes, "Now we have that settled, would you please let Chita know it's safe to return?"

Sheppard rose from the table, grabbed his hat, which was hanging on the chair, and gave her a slight half-grin, "Yes, ma'am."

The remainder of the afternoon passed quietly. Chuck continued to show Sheppard around the ranch. The small barn held two dairy cows, currently grazing in a field next to the barn. A noisy chicken coup attached to the rear was home to about twenty chickens and a rooster. They cleaned out the barn, and filled the food and water troughs. Once done in the barn, they walked through the garden. Late in the afternoon, Chuck informed Sheppard that Emeline wanted to talk about her ideas for the garden, and for growing more hay. The two men headed back toward the house.

Emeline was sitting at the kitchen table, drawings of the garden and seed catalogues in front of her. On the stove, a heavy iron kettle was venting steam from under its lid, an appetizing aroma filling the kitchen.

Chuck grabbed a cloth and lifted the lid, "Ummm, you made bean soup for dinner…I love your bean soup."

Emeline's smile was warm as she teasingly scolded Chuck, "Put the lid back on; the soup is not ready yet. And before you ask, Conchita is making cornbread after she finishes some mending." She pointed to the chairs, "Please sit down; would either of you like a glass of lemonade?"

Both men were hot and said yes quickly; Emeline poured glasses for all of them. Sheppard was surprised, "This is cold."

"Yes, there is a spring just past the stables, the river runs underground for most of its length, and Papere thought the spring was being fed by the cold river water. The water stays pure and quite cold all year long."

"Chuck's been telling me about your plans for the vegetable garden. I don't have a lot of experience with gardening, so you two are going to have to teach me; show me what you want to do."

A perplexed Emeline asked, "Why would you want to learn to be a farmer? You certainly can't farm traveling from town to town."

Quietly, he replied, "No I can't, but I might not always be travelling and maybe I'll need to know how to grow potatoes one day."

Emeline tilted her head, "Alright, here you can start with this seed catalog," tossing the paper book at him.

They had been discussing the garden for about an hour, when they heard Conchita's excited voice, her words half in English, half in Spanish. Sheppard and Emeline were both almost at the kitchen door, when an agitated Conchita ran in, "Señorita, señorita…he is here."

"Who is here?"

"That… hombre malo …Cowen."

Sheppard grasped Conchita's shoulders hoping to calm her, "Are you certain?"

"Si, I go upstairs on balcony to mend, I like it there. I saw rider on gray horse coming down lane; he has gray horse, we saw in town once."

Sheppard turned to Chuck, "Go out the back and find Julio and see if Paul is up to helping, and tell them to get their guns, but to keep out of sight. If Cowen starts threatening her, show yourselves." Chuck rushed out the door and Sheppard turned to Emeline, "Are you okay with talking to him?"

"Yes, I'm not afraid of him."

"I don't want him to know I'm here unless it's absolutely necessary. I want you to go out on the porch to talk to him; don't let him in here. I'm going to be right behind that door with my gun if he tries anything." Sheppard headed for the spacious entry hall. He peered out the window, "It's Cowen, and he's about half-way up the lane."

Conchita was still holding a shirt she was mending; Sheppard took it and handed it to Emeline, "Go out on the porch, act like you've been there mending."

She nodded and started out the door, but Sheppard grabbed her arm, "Don't take any chances."

"I won't."

Emeline slipped out the door and sat down in one of the rockers. Otis, who had been asleep on the veranda, joined her. Sheppard pulled his gun from its holster, half-cocked it and held his breath. He knew the bastard would show up, but didn't expect him to come by himself.

Cowen's gray horse whinnied as they turned onto the path leading to the house. Emeline stood up, walking to the edge of the veranda; the mending clutched in her hand. Cowen dismounted and walked toward her.

"What are you doing here?"

He smiled leeringly, "What, no hello; aren't you glad to see me?"

"No," she paused, then continued, "I am not glad to see you, and would like you to leave."

He lazily tied his horse to the hitching post next to the stairs, "I'm afraid I don't choose to leave; I need to talk, and you need to listen." He placed a foot on the first step, "I have a proposal for you and I suggest you agree to it."

Sheppard tensed; he didn't like the way Cowen was ogling her, and he didn't like the bastard getting close to her. He tightened his grip on the Colt and reached for the doorknob. Just as he touched the knob, Conchita appeared next to him, a rifle in her hands.

"Let me go, señor; I will chase that hombre malo away."

"Wait, I want to hear what he says…then you can chase him away."

Conchita replied, "Si, señor I will wait."

Sheppard turned his attention back to Emeline, who had taken a step forward. "Don't come any closer; one yell from me and my hands will come running."

He paused, one boot on the first step, "Really? You think your hands can protect you?" He laughed, "I don't think so. Anton was too soft, always taking care of the orphans and the needy. They are no match for my men and me, and from what I hear, that meddlesome bastard who's been interfering deserted you. You need to face the situation, my lovely Emeline. I can take care of you, protect you; you need to marry me."

Emeline laughed, "Marry you...I think I've already told you I'd rather marry a horse than a despicable man like you. I know what you did to my grandfather, and somehow, I'll make you pay for it."

Cowen's mask of pleasantness faded, replaced by hostility, "You are no match for me; I will have what I want. I want this land, and I want you. However, if you don't agree to my terms, the land I'll keep, you…once I'm done with you, maybe I'll let my men have you." He stepped up as if he was going to approach her, "You agree to my terms, and I will protect you; you refuse, I cannot guarantee your safety."

Otis growled, baring his teeth as Cowen got closer to Emeline. Before the dog could strike, Conchita burst through the front door, rifle pointed at his head, "Get away from her."

Cowen laughed, "You think I'm scared of some Mexican whore?" He took another step.

Sheppard's hand was on the doorknob again, but he halted when he heard Paul's voice, "Get off Miss Emeline's land, or we will kill you where you stand."

Cowen looked around to find Paul and Julio approaching from the north side of the house, Chuck and Ramon from the right, all with rifles pointed at him. He backed down the steps and unhitched his horse, speaking to Emeline, "You may think your men or that mangy dog can help you, but they are all weak; your days are numbered, Emeline Spencer and I am so looking forward to my reward." He hopped on the gray gelding and galloped down the lane.

Once Cowen was far enough away, Sheppard stepped onto the porch. He grabbed the diminutive Conchita by the shoulders, "You are amazing, that was very brave." She smiled, as Julio rushed to her, embracing his wife, whispering to her in Spanish.

Sheppard turned to Emeline, shaking his head, "I would've loved the opportunity to meet your grandfather, to thank him for giving you such strength. Emeline, Cowen's going to escalate this, we have to be prepared." He turned to the others, "We're going to need to keep watch, and stay armed; Cowen will be back with his thugs. Chuck, Julio, ride into town and tell the sheriff about Cowen's visit." He added, "Go to the mercantile and get more ammunition, Rodney has a lot in stock; we might need it."

Chuck answered, "Okay, boss."

"Paul, Ramon, you need to get as much rest as you can, go back to the bunkhouse."

Conchita spoke, "I will walk them back, señor."

As Conchita escorted the two injured men toward the bunkhouse, Emeline dropped into a rocker, "Boss?"

Sheppard sat down in the rocker next to her, "You were just threatened by Cowen, yet Chuck calling me boss bothers you?"

Her gaze was steady as she replied, "I'm not bothered by Chuck calling you boss. It seems natural for you; I know you were a colonel in the Army, Lorne told me. Being in charge seems to suit you."

"I'm not trying to take over your life and your people; I just want to keep you safe."

Emeline's breathing was rapid and shallow as she chewed on her lower lip. Sheppard wondered what she was thinking, was she angry with him or was there something else. She stood up, turning toward the front door.

"I need to check on the soup. We'll eat supper when Chuck and Julio return."

Sheppard sat, absently rocking and rubbing Otis' head, for a few minutes after she disappeared inside. He knew Cowen wasn't joking; if Emeline didn't go to him willingly, he would throw her to those thugs after he had his way with her. He was not going to allow that to happen, he would kill Cowen first. He decided he needed to bleed off some energy, and felt he could risk taking Pegasus for a gallop, in the fields behind the house. He reached for his hat, then realized it was hanging from a chair in the kitchen. Not wanting to deal with Emeline, he decided he didn't need the Stetson he just needed to think.

He met up with Conchita as she was returning to the house, and let her know where he was going. Pegasus was impatient, pawing at the straw until he got the saddle onto him; as soon as he hopped onto his back, the stallion started running. Heading down the narrow path leading away from the stables toward the hay field, he let Pegasus run as fast as he wanted; for Sheppard, it wasn't fast enough.

Cowen was right on one point, to look at the hands working on The Last Chance it would seem they were too young to defend the ranch. What Cowen didn't know was that loyalty was an excellent motivator. Everyone on the ranch had been loyal to Anton LeMonde and had transferred their loyalty to Emeline. The ranch was their chosen home, and they would defend their ground, even to their deaths. Somehow, he needed to keep all of them safe.

Returning to the stables about forty minutes later, Sheppard headed for the bunkhouse, he wanted to talk to Paul and Ramon and formulate a plan. He knocked on the dormitory door; Paul yelled 'come in.'

Dropping into a chair, Sheppard said, "We need to keep watch; Cowen's coming, and he'll bring a lot of men with him. The Widow's Walk on top of the stables is it for decoration or is it real?"

Paul answered, "Its real, Mr. Anton liked to go up there and look over the ranch and the river, especially at sunset."

"Paul, I want you and Chuck to alternate standing watch from the tower; Ramon, you and Julio will keep watch from the balcony on the house. Conchita and I will stay close to Emeline. Is there a cellar?"

"Yes, in the pantry there's a door that leads outside of the enclosed lawn; the cellar door is there."

"Okay, I suspect it will take Cowen until tomorrow to get his crew together, but we need to be ready now. Lorne will be sending at least one deputy to help us, maybe two, but I don't know how many men Cowen will bring." Sheppard paused, "If either of you want to back out, now's the time, and I wouldn't blame you; this could get ugly."

Ramon shook his head, "No Señor John; we are not going anywhere. This is our home."

Sheppard smiled, "Knew I could count on you; now get some rest. Emeline said we'll have supper when Chuck and Julio return from the town."

The western sky cast a rosy-orange glow over the ranch by the time Chuck, Julio, and Clyde the deputy arrived. Chuck unloaded the ammunition he bought, while Clyde found Sheppard and Conchita at the small barn bringing in the cows. Only one was producing milk, and Conchita started milking the heifer as Sheppard spoke to Clyde.

"Mr. Sheppard, the sheriff sent me 'cause I'm the best shot of his deputies. He's coming out tomorrow to see what's going on. What do you want me to do?"

"You hungry?"

"Sheriff says that Conchita's a fine cook, but I'm not really hungry right now."

"The sheriff is a smart man; she is a very fine cook. While the others eat, I'd like you to keep watch on the lane from the balcony; then you can eat. That alright with you?"

"Yes, sir."

Waiting until Conchita was finished milking, the two men walked her back to the house. Sheppard took Clyde upstairs to the balcony, then headed to the kitchen. Emeline was dipping soup into bowls; three pones of hot cornbread sat on the table, along with a couple of pots of hot coffee.

Dinner was somber; no one was in the mood for small talk. After several quiet moments, Sheppard decided they might as well talk about what was facing them.

"I spoke to Paul and Ramon earlier about s a watch schedule. Chuck, I want you and Paul to keep watch from the Widow's Walk; Julio, and Clyde will keep a lookout from the balcony tonight."

Conchita said sharply, "I watch, too."

Sheppard smiled, "Yes, you and I are going to stay with Emeline." Conchita nodded in reply.

Ramon wasn't happy, his voice somewhat indignant, "I can stand watch, señor; my head no longer hurts."

"Yes, you can; tomorrow, after you've had a bit more rest."

They finished supper, once more in silence, Sheppard noting that Emeline had said nothing. She toyed with her food, taking only a few spoonfuls of soup, nibbling on a piece of cornbread. Sheppard asked Julio to relieve Clyde so that he could eat; Conchita rose to get a bowl of soup ready for him, leaving only Emeline and Sheppard at the table. Surprisingly, she didn't move.

He asked softly, "You alright?"

She wouldn't look at him, "I'm fine." She stood up, "I need to help Conchita." She twirled away from the table, and began to pump water into a bucket to rinse the dishes. She then went to the stove to get the bucket of hot water that was resting on the wood stove. As she reached out for the bucket, Sheppard slipped his arm past her.

"I'll get this," he was standing so close to her that he could feel the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. He touched her waist to move her aside, and felt her shudder. He whispered, "It's going to be okay, Eme; I promise."

~ooOoo~

About two in the morning, John Sheppard was sitting in a rocker on the balcony of the main house. He had relieved Clyde a short time before after surprisingly getting a few hours sleep. Julio and Conchita were staying in the main house, across the hall from Emeline's room. The covered balcony stretched across the front to the house, three sets of French doors opened onto the wide porch. One set of doors led to a guest room; one set opened from the center upstairs hallway, and one from Emeline's room. He was trying very hard not to dwell on how close she was.

The night sky was dark, lightly sprinkled with sparkling stars shining through the moonlight; the desert air turning cooler. He shifted in the chair, adjusting the Remington rifle that lay across his lap. A creaking sound caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle; slowly, he turned his head toward the noise. An apparition in white was walking toward him.

"I thought I heard your voice," Emeline said softly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't; I haven't gotten much sleep tonight."

In the moonlight, she resembled a goddess; her dark hair reflected the sparkle of the starlight, the diaphanous white gown and robe, swirled around her, satin ribbons glimmering in the moonlight. It wasn't until he noticed she was carrying a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, that he realized she was no goddess but a flesh and blood woman.

"Whiskey? It's getting cooler out here; thought it would warm you up." She sat down in the rocker next to him and poured them both a shot, handing him a glass.

"Just a surprise, you look more like a champagne drinker to me."

She laughed, the first time he had heard her laugh, and her soft voice sent chills down his spine. "I am my grandfather's granddaughter, John Sheppard; he taught me a good belt of whiskey could cure about anything. However, I do hope you'll keep my little secret, not certain the good folks of Wickenburg are ready for the real me."

"I'll drink to that," Sheppard said, and they downed the first shot. Emeline poured another for each of them.

She was silent; he waited, feeling she had something she wanted to say. She rocked gently for a moment before she spoke.

"I need to apologize to you, I…I'm having a hard time dealing with this situation. I've been forced most of my life to live in two worlds. My father, Roger Spencer, came to New Orleans from Boston to manage a shipping company his family purchased, one that was in competition with Papere's shipping fleet. One day on the docks, he met my mother, Adelise. It was love at first sight for my mother; he was tall, blond and blue-eyed, so unlike most of the men in New Orleans. Father says he fell in love with my mother from the precise moment that he saw her."

"No doubt she looks like you."

"I don't know, Papere always said I look just like her at the same age."

"You called your father, 'father,' quite formal for New Orleans."

"Um…perceptive, my father despised New Orleans from the day he arrived, but he was forced to stay. He would have taken my mother to Boston if his family allowed it, but he was doing too well at the shipping company, and they refused to allow him to return. He did the next-best thing; he did all he could to raise my brothers and me as proper Bostonians." She took a sip of whiskey. "He alienated my mother from Papere and Mamere, my grandmother; and kept my brothers, Richard and James, and me from seeing them often, and forbade us to adapt the culture of New Orleans. As I got older, I snuck away and spent as much time with Papere at his office or Mamere at the guesthouse. When I turned eighteen, my father decided I was too difficult to handle and sent me to a finishing school in Paris. I didn't return until I was twenty-four. By then, my father had forced Papere to sell his shipping company to the Spencer family and all they had was the guest house, which they expanded to a full hotel."

She paused; Sheppard let her take her time and didn't interrupt. After another sip of whiskey, she continued. "The Spencer family paid Papere a great deal of money for the company, so my grandparents were financially sound. My father would never have allowed them to want for anything."

Emeline rose and stood next to the wrought-iron railing, a soft breeze blowing her robe about. "I returned after the war began to discover my father had decided that I was to marry; a pre-arranged marriage to a man I despised. One of my father's associates, a man twenty years my senior; even my mother was opposed, and she questioned nothing my father did. I rebelled, moved out of the house and moved in with my grandparents. I never went home again. My father sent my brothers to Boston to fight in the war, even James, who was too young but my father insisted they both join the Union Army, even though Louisiana was part of the Confederacy. Richard was injured, but survived; James was never the same, something he experienced affected him greatly. Papere and I were hopeful that things would improve but shortly after the war ended, Mamere became very ill and died within a matter of months. Papere was devastated, his spirit gone."

She turned to look at him, "I took over the daily operation of the hotel since Papere's heart was not in it. James came to work with me; he and my father were at each other's throats, so I gave the chance to get away. One day I came home from the fish market and there was an envelope lying on my desk. Papere transferred the deed to the hotel into my name, along with a large sum of cash. He also left a note that said he was going to seek his fame and fortune in the west; he was going to search for gold."

Sheppard interjected, "I understand he stuck it rich in a gold mine."

Emeline scoffed, "I thought…I thought he was exaggerating. He sent letters telling me that he had struck it rich, that he had bought a large piece of fertile land, and started a ranch; built a house. He'd always loved horses, he told me how he had begun to round up wild horses and break them. I didn't believe him."

"It's understandable that you would think that, Emeline."

"Well, imagine my surprise when I came here, thinking he was lonely, sick, delusional regarding the 'bad man' who was after his land, and found he'd been telling me the truth after all. He had described the house, the barns, the people, and I didn't believe him. He had been so despondent when he left, I thought the stories were all in his imagination. Then when I arrived, he was dead, Papere was dead, and I never got to tell him how proud I was of his accomplishments."

"Why did you stay? You could have sold the ranch to someone besides Cowen, and you'd be back in New Orleans."

"I couldn't, when I arrived, all of these people, the ones here on the ranch and in town, they all loved my Papere. They knew and respected him as a man whom I never got to know. I couldn't abandon them; they depended on him, and now they depend on me, but I can't fight Cowen alone."

Emeline sighed deeply, "I'm sorry I've been difficult to deal with. I suppose I can't believe Cowen can be this vile. I wanted to tell you this because I still don't understand why you are helping us, but I want you to know that my grandfather would have liked you very much. I can't thank you enough for risking your life to help protect this ranch."

Sheppard stood up, and joined her at the railing, "Eme you shouldn't beat yourself up over believing that Anton was embellishing his life. Most people who come to seek their fame and fortune in the west, don't manage to do so." She was shivering from the cool night air, "Go back to bed; you need to rest. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be difficult."

"I suppose I should," she turned to walk away, but stopped, "Tell me John Sheppard, have you found your destiny, your fame and fortune, yet?"

He chuckled softly, "Time will tell; now go to bed."

He sat back down in the rocker after she closed the door behind her, grabbing the whisky bottle. Not bothering with a glass, he took a big swig of whiskey. Resting his head against the rocker, he wondered if he had found his destiny in a pair of emerald eyes.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

Sunlight was just peeking over the horizon when the rooster began crowing, shattering the quiet dawn. Sheppard walked into the kitchen to find Conchita already cooking breakfast, a pot of coffee sat on the stove. Sheppard grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured the hot brew into it.

"Um…smells good," he whispered to Conchita, "Love fried eggs."

She smiled, "Bueno, señor; biscuits are in the oven, and I will make gravy when Julio returns from milking cow."

Sheppard sauntered to the table where Paul and Ramon were sitting, "Clyde and Chuck on lookout?"

"Yes, sir," Paul answered, "We're going to relieve them once we eat, so they can have breakfast."

Julio arrived with a bucket of milk, just as Emeline entered the kitchen. Sheppard noted that she appeared tired, suspecting she hadn't slept well. He stood up, "Good morning. She mumbled good morning, and he continued," Sit down; I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"You don't need to wait on me."

"Sit," he pointed to the chair, and waited until she sat down. Grabbing another cup and the coffee pot, he returned to the table.

"Thanks," Emeline murmured as she took the cup from him.

No one spoke, concentrating on their coffee, until Conchita and Julio served platters of eggs, biscuits and a bowl of chorizo sausage gravy.

Ramon smiled, as he spooned gravy over a couple of biscuits, "Señora Conchita, mi favorito."

As they ate, Sheppard talked about the day ahead. "Everyone needs to stay close to the house until this is over, and everyone needs to keep your weapons with you. The next time Cowen comes, he'll come with reinforcements, and he'll mean business."

"We'll be ready, John," Paul answered, his voice grave, the others nodding.

When they finished eating, Paul and Ramon headed to the lookout areas, and Julio helped Conchita begin to clean up.

Sheppard gazed at Emeline, "You need to get some rest."

"I'm fine; besides today is laundry day; Conchita and I have a lot to do to get ready," she stood up. "If you have anything you need for us to wash, be sure to bring it to the wash shed."

"You barely ate anything last night or this morning, at least, eat something."

She rose, picked up her plate, and headed to the sink. Sheppard decided that pressing her further wouldn't help; it would only serve to anger her. He didn't need her angry with him; he needed her to trust him, and listen to him.

Standing up, he took his plate to the sink, where Emeline was scraping dishes, "I'm going out to help Chuck with the horses, you stay with Conchita and Julio." She nodded, her eyes filled with worry; he gently squeezed her shoulder, "We'll get through this I promise."

The morning passed uneventfully; Sheppard and Chuck took care of the horses and at mid-day, they stopped for a quick lunch of leftover bean soup. Sheppard then joined Paul to move hay from the curing stacks to a wagon for transport to the stable. The afternoon heat was building, and Sheppard removed his sweat-soaked shirt, and continued to pitch hay into the wagon. They were nearly finished when he heard Emeline's voice.

"Paul, John, I have some cool spring water for you."

Both men were on the other side of the haystack, and Paul emerged first, grabbing a dipper sticking out of the bucket. Paul drank a couple of dippers full, thanked Emeline, and returned to work.

"I'd like some of that cold water," Sheppard was standing behind her.

She turned, and then gasped as she saw he was shirtless, Sheppard grinned slyly, "Umm…never seen a man without his shirt on before?"

Emeline, her petite frame bringing her eye level with his chest, slowly looked up at him, "Yes, I have, so don't flatter yourself," she looked back at his chest dusted with thick dark hair, "you…" She bit her lower lip, and didn't say anything else, just handed him a dipper. He drank heartily, then handed her the dipper.

"Thanks, appreciate the water," he locked gazes with her until she pulled her eyes away, drifting to his chest again.

She stuttered, "You...you're…w-welcomed," then turned and hurried toward the house.

Sheppard and Paul had finished loading the hay wagon when Conchita appeared, "Señor John, Señorita Eme asked me to bring you this dry shirt, it belonged to Señor Anton; she believes it will fit you."

Paul walked up, "She must like you."

Sheppard's head snapped around, "What do you mean?"

"After things settled down, Miss Eme went through her grandfather's things; Chuck and I were really the only ones who could wear his clothing, with a bit of alteration. But that shirt, that was his favorite, and she wouldn't part with it…until now."

The shirt in question was made of soft white cotton with a muted brown plaid pattern; Sheppard slipped it on, a little loose in the neck, but other wise a good fit. As he buttoned the shirt, he wondered about the enigma that was Emeline Spencer. He slung the Remington rifle's strap over his shoulder, grabbed his soggy shirt, hoping once this was all over, he could discover her secrets.

As they walked toward the house, Paul asked, "It's getting late in the afternoon, you think they're coming soon, don't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"You were looking at the sun's position; they want us tired after a day's work, reflexes won't be as quick."

"Sure you've never been in the army, Paul?"

The young man didn't reply immediately, when he did, there was pain in his voice, "Lived with an Army man, my father, who used to talk about military strategy. He was good at that but a bastard otherwise. His idea of discipline was beatin' his kids. I left when he beat my younger brother to death; didn't stay around for his hanging."

Sheppard sucked in a breath, "Sorry…," he paused, "but you are right. I think they'll be here soon, for just the reasons you said. I need you to make sure that everyone is close to the house, just in case, and tell Chuck what we're thinking. I'm going to talk to Emeline."

Paul said yes, and took off running to the stable where Chuck was in the Widow's Walk. Sheppard headed for the front of the house, where he called up to Julio, who had just replaced Clyde on watch, and told him to be alert.

He stepped onto the veranda where Otis was curled up asleep, staying out of the sun; the big dog wagged his tail as Sheppard walked by, then went back to sleep. Inside the house was cool and dark; he looked around at the furniture that Anton had ordered from New Orleans and Paris. Clearly, Anton missed his life in New Orleans, and attempted to recreate it on a plain in Arizona; now his granddaughter was fighting to preserve his dream. Sheppard was beginning to believe the dream was as worthy of preserving as the people were. Hearing Emeline and Conchita talking in the kitchen, he was at the door's threshold when he heard the dinner bell; Julio had the bell to warn them. Running to the front window, Sheppard saw a cloud of dust along the lane.

"John, is it them?" Emeline was breathless as she and Conchita joined him.

"Yes, now stay in here." He touched her face, "Don't come out."

Sheppard stepped onto the veranda spotting Clyde, Ramon, and Paul heading for the defense locations they had determined earlier. The watcher on the balcony, Julio at the moment, was going to stay in his location. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement; Chuck was rushing toward him.

"There's ten of 'em, I don't see Cowen's horse with 'em."

Shaking his head, "Cowen wouldn't come; he's letting his thugs do his dirty work. You ready to do this?" Chuck nodded and Sheppard said, "Then let's do this; time to let these bastards know I haven't left town."

Noticing Otis, he said, "Boy, I'm afraid they might decide to hurt you, you need to sit this one out." He opened the door, "Get in the house," quickly closing the door behind the dog.

As Cowen's men got closer, Sheppard recognized the lead rider, Daners, the man who accosted Emeline the day they met. Some of the others were familiar; he recognized them from Wickenburg.

Sheppard and Chuck stood at the top of the steps, rifles in hand, as Daners and the others rode up. Daners hopped off his horse, walking to the bottom of the steps.

"Well, well, the hero didn't leave town after all; protecting the lady's honor, I see."

"Get off this land."

"No, can't do that. I got a document for Miss Emeline to sign. If she doesn't, well…she'll leave us no choice but to take what we want. "

"Tell Cowen, no deal."

"Whoa, I never said I was here on behalf of Mr. Cowen; why he'd never try to force the lovely Emeline into making a deal with him. But I will, now get the little lady out here so I can get her signature, then we can leave, and I think we'll take her with us."

"Not going to happen; now I've told you to get off this property." As Sheppard spoke the other men with Daners dismounted, weapons in hand.

Daners moved closer to the steps, a weapon drawn "I told you to get that woman out here to sign this, or we take this land, and I'll kill everyone here, starting with you hero."

Sheppard didn't blink, "No."

Daners yelled, "Boys, take em!"

As his men raised their weapons, Paul yelled, "I wouldn't do that, we've got you covered."

One of the raiders fired, missing Paul. Clyde was luckier; his shot took the man down. Two other raiders ducked behind their horses not realizing that Julio was on the balcony. Sheppard heard two shots from above and both men fell, one shot by Julio and one by Conchita.

Daners had turned to see who had fallen, then spun around firing at Sheppard. Quicker than Daners, Sheppard pulled the rifle's trigger, hitting the man in the shoulder. Another raider raised his weapon but Ramon tackled him from behind, knocking him out with the butt of his rifle. Chuck fired on another but missed as a bullet grazed his upper right arm. Sheppard shot Chuck's attacker, then yelled, "It's over, drop your weapons."

Two of the men jumped on their horses and fled down the lane. The other two, too far away from their mounts, dropped their weapons. Sheppard rushed down the steps, forcing the two men on the ground at gunpoint.

"Paul, Clyde, tie them up; Ramon, check on those ones that got shot." He spun around, "Chuck you okay?"

Chuck was leaning against a post on the veranda, clutching his bloody arm. "I'm fine."

As Sheppard walked toward Clyde, he heard Ramon yell, "Señor John, look out."

As he spun toward Ramon's voice, he heard a loud retort from a rifle, and in that instant, braced for the searing burn of a bullet. Instead, he heard a grunt as Daners' body jerked, impacted by the shot. Sheppard looked in the direction of the gunshot to see Emeline standing on the porch, rifle in hand.

Racing up the steps, he took the rifle from her. "You…alright?" His voice was ragged.

"He was going to kill you," she whispered.

"Thanks to you, he didn't," Sheppard replied. "Why don't you see to Chuck's wound? I need to talk to the deputy." Emeline nodded and hurried to Chuck.

Sheppard joined Ramon, who was checking Daners; Ramon shook his head, "He is dead." Ramon pried a gun from Daners' hand, "Dios mio. He grabbed gun dropped by the man I tackled, lo siento."

"No need to be sorry, we're lucky Chuck's wound is minor and no one else is hurt. Get Conchita and see how badly the other two are hurt."

"Si Señor."

Sheppard headed to Clyde and Paul, who were tying up the two men who had surrendered. "Clyde, didn't you tell me the sheriff was coming out here?"

"He said he was; don't know why he's not here yet."

"Paul, go get the wagon, we'll put the wounded and the dead on the wagon, then put these two on their horses. You and Clyde can take them to town; Clyde can tell the sheriff what happened."

"Right, boss."

At Paul's use of 'boss,' Sheppard glanced toward the veranda. Emeline was wrapping a bandage around Chuck's upper arm. She seemed calm, but he wondered how she was going to deal with killing a man.

"Señor look."

A shout from Julio startled him; following Julio's pointed arm, he saw another cloud of dust moving along the lane. "Grab your weapons and get in position." Realizing he was still holding Emeline's rifle, he rushed up the steps.

"Get Chuck inside."

Chuck shook his head, "No, wound ain't that bad; I'm staying."

Emeline took her rifle, "I'm staying, too."

He glared at her, but knew arguing with her would not make a difference; she was staying. He called out to Clyde, who was in a better position to see who was coming. "Clyde, who is it?"

Clyde, standing along side Paul behind the wagon, rifles resting on the sideboard, didn't answer immediately. Sheppard saw him stand up, dropping his weapon, 'It's the sheriff."

Lorne was leading a group of six men, Dwayne, another deputy named Jack, two miners Sheppard recognized from the saloon, Doc Beckett, and surprisingly, Rodney McKay. Hopping off his horse, Lorne took stock of the scene before him.

"Got here a little late, I see."

Sheppard dropped his head, blowing out a deep breath, "Just a bit."

"Everyone alright?"

Sheppard nodded, "For the most part; Chuck got winged, but the wound isn't bad. Doc we got five wounded men; two of the bastards are tied up, two got away, and Daners is dead."

Lorne walked over to the body, "So Cowen sent him to do his dirty work, not surprised you shot him."

"I didn't kill him," he tilted his head toward the veranda, "She did."

Lorne uttered a low whistle, "Emeline killed him?"

"He had the drop on me, and she had a clear shot."

"She is okay?"

"Don't know yet," Sheppard watched her for a few seconds, as she was helping Chuck into the house. He shrugged his shoulders, "I'll make sure she is." Shaking off his concern for Emeline, he continued, "Brought the wagon around to load up Daners' body, and the wounded."

"We'll take them back to town. I'm gonna go talk to Eme for a minute, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, but you should know she's angry at us for letting her think I'd left. She's already yelled at me."

Lorne grinned, "Won't bother me a bit, got a wife about to deliver; she has been a bit cranky lately. I think I can handle Eme."

Lorne disappeared into the house, and Sheppard walked over Rodney, who was helping the doc. He waited until Beckett finished bandaging the shoulder wound on one of the injured men, then slapped Rodney on the back. "Didn't expect to see you out here…thanks for coming to help."

Rodney looked despondent, "I know; no one thinks I can help when it comes to this kind of stuff, but I had to come. It's Emeline and I owe her."

"Owe her?"

"Yes, owe her or actually, owe Anton. I got into money troubles during the Indian raids a few years ago, lost merchandise to attacks, people not coming into town often; Anton gave me the money to stay afloat. I'd be destitute right now, if he hadn't, so I have to help her. I would anyway; she's good people." Rodney paused, "Besides, I…I think you should stay in Wickenburg. She needs you, and the town needs you."

"So, you were willing to risk your own life for Emeline and for me?" Sheppard squeezed Rodney's shoulder, "You're a good man, Rodney McKay."

McKay gave Sheppard a small, crooked smile, "I am pretty brave, aren't I?"

"Keep telling yourself that, you'll believe it someday." Sheppard grinned mischievously, wanting to see about Emeline, he started to walk away but added, "Rodney…Jennifer believes you're a good man."

He bounded up the steps to the house, chuckling at Rodney's reddened face. Inside, he found Emeline sitting on the settee, with Otis beside her and an angry look on her face. Lorne was sitting the edge of a chair, elbows on his knees, holding his hat.

Sheppard plopped down in another chair, "So, she yelled at you, too."

Emeline glared at him, "Watch out, John Sheppard, or you'll be next."

Lorne snorted, "Good luck, John. Emeline and I were just discussing her returning to town with Dr. Beckett, while we keep watch on the farm. You took out a number of Cowen's people today, and he's going to be incredibly angry; he'll try something else."

"Lorne's right, Eme, you'd be safer in town."

She stood up, striding to the window, Otis trotting along with her, "None of us will be safe until Cowen is dead. I want this ended."

"So do we Emeline; the reason I couldn't get here any faster is that Cowen sent men into town to start a ruckus to prevent us from helping you. Someone tried to rob the bank; we had fist fights breaking out all over town. One of the idiots took Walter hostage until he managed to get to a razor in his pocket; took doc fifteen stitches to close the kidnapper's wound. I've got about nine men in lock-up now; gonna have to build a bigger jail if this keeps up. My point is, we've made a big dent in Cowen's manpower, but I don't think that's gonna stop him."

Emeline whispered, "Nothing's going to stop him but a bullet."

Sheppard and Lorne exchanged glances, and Sheppard quietly replied, "I think you're right, but you don't have to be the one to kill him."

She turned, cold rage in her eyes, "He killed Parterre, and he tried to kill us; he needs to die."

Lorne sucked in a breath, "We'll get him, together."

~ooOoo~

Twilight had settled over the ranch, Lorne, Beckett, McKay, and all the others except Dwayne had returned to town with the remnants of Cowen's raiding party. Chuck, although insisting he was fine, had agreed to rest and returned to the bunkhouse. Conchita was preparing a quick supper of beans, rice, and chorizo along with fresh tortillas, Emeline helping her.

Sheppard walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching Emeline preparing the tortillas. Otis, who had not left her side since the afternoon's events, wagged his tail at Sheppard but didn't leave his post. The sound of the shaggy tail hitting the polished wood floor caused Emeline to turn. His heart skipped a beat when, once more, she drew a tiny breath when she saw him.

"Smells good in here," he remarked.

Emeline smiled slightly, "All thanks to the wonderful cooking of Conchita; I'm learning a lot from her." Conchita giggled, but kept cooking.

Sheppard reported, "Everyone's back in place keeping a lookout, but I agree with Lorne; Cowen won't try anything tonight, going to take him for him to regroup."

She finished the tortillas and covered them with a cloth, "But he will try again, and at what cost?" She sat down across from Sheppard, "Maybe I should let him have the ranch. I don't want you, or anyone…hurt because of me."

"Where's that defiance from this afternoon? If I remember correctly, you were ready to hunt Cowen down and kill him with your bare hands."

"Don't make fun of me."

Sheppard dropped his head in his hands for a second, then looked at her, "I'm not, but with what's happened your emotions are all over the place. You shot a man this afternoon, Emeline; that will affect you, no matter how much he deserved to die."

"I know what I did, and I would do it again. You need to believe me; I would do it again."

"I do believe you and I know I'd be dead right now if you hadn't shot Daners. I also believe that you are not about to back down and let Cowen win, so no more talk of letting him have the ranch."

Conchita interrupted, "Señorita, supper is ready."

Emeline rose, and headed to the cupboard behind Sheppard to get plates, as she passed by him, he reached out and grasped her hand. "Emeline, thank you for saving my life."

She cast her eyes downward, her voice trembling as she whispered, "I couldn't let you die." Pulling her hand from his, she grabbed the plates and told him to round up the ones who could eat first.

Night fell, after dinner everyone settled in their watch positions or tried to get some rest. Emeline had excused herself after dinner, saying she was very tired and with Otis tagging along, headed to her room.

At the pre-arranged time, about three in the morning, Julio came down from the balcony and woke Sheppard, who was asleep on the large settee, so he could take the next watch. As Sheppard sat down in the rocker on the balcony, his boot knocked against something. Reaching down he found a whiskey bottle and one glass. As he poured a shot, he smiled.

~ooOoo~

Everyone was on edge the next morning; they all knew that Cowen wasn't going to give up; it was simply a matter of what he was going to do. Sheppard ordered everyone to stay close to the house, and with the deputies on the balcony and in the Widow's Walk, they attended to the livestock, after which Sheppard put Pegasus through a workout. When they returned, Sheppard took the big stallion directly to a paddock, so he could graze. Now that Cowen knew he was still in Wickenburg, no need to keep Pegasus out of sight. Deciding he needed to do something useful, he went looking for Chuck and Paul.

The late morning spring sun was beating down as Sheppard, along with Paul tilled the small herb and flower garden Emeline wanted near the barn, under Chuck's direction. Wiping sweat from his brow, Sheppard realized his canteen was empty, and motioned to Paul he was going for water.

The deep well was located at the rear corner of the main house; he pumped the cold water from the spigot into his canteen, and then splashed water over his head. As he shook off the excess water, he thought he heard the soft whinny of a horse; rounding the corner of the house, he spotted Emeline on Bebette, riding down the lane. He yelled for her, but she was too far away to hear him. Anger swelled within him; it was dangerous for her to go anywhere alone, and she had promised she wouldn't, certainly not after what happened yesterday. He ran for the paddock where Pegasus was grazing, the big horse still wearing his tack from his morning workout. Grabbing the black saddle and blanket lying on the ground next to the fence, Sheppard threw them over the horse's back, tightened the straps, and rode off after her.

Bebette was a small horse but she was fast; by the time Pegasus reached full gallop, Bebette and her rider were far ahead of them. Sheppard decided that as long as he could keep her in sight, he would wait to see where Emeline intended to go. It wasn't long before she turned off the main lane, down the narrow path that led to the river.

The fertile plain was lush due to the Hassayampa River; flowing underground for most of its length, the river flowed aboveground in the verdant land. Thick groves of trees and heavy brush lined the riverbanks, and as he rode deeper into the thick vegetation, a variety of birds flew from the trees. Sheppard was apprehensive for a moment until he spotted Bebette tied to a tall tree near a widened area in the river Chuck had referred to as the big pond. He slid off Pegasus, wrapped his reins around a nearby tree, and quietly walked toward the riverbank.

Emeline was sitting on a fallen log partly submerged in the river; at first, he couldn't tell what she was doing until he saw her place her boots on the log. Sheppard felt his breath rush from his body when he realized she was going swimming. He knew he should let her know he was there, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. As she stood up and began to undress, he lost all sense of what he should do; he was too mesmerized to move.

After untying the ribbon holding back her hair, she unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it off and laying it across the log next to a towel. Unfastening her riding skirt, she allowed it to slide from her hips. Clad only in a sheer cotton chemise and knickers, she swiftly removed those garments as well, standing naked with her back to him.

Sheppard was surprised that Emeline couldn't hear the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest. She was exquisite; her thick dark hair fell below her pale shoulders, her graceful back tapering to a slender waist and curvy hips. Guilt washed over him; he shouldn't be spying on her, but he couldn't look away.

Emeline walked to the water's edge, and gingerly stepped in, wading a few feet into the river; she shuddered from the cold water but dove in. Breaking through the surface, she swam for several minutes before she stopped and rolled onto her back, floating atop the still water. His ability to breathe abandoned him as he gazed at her lush body.

Sheppard fought the urge to strip off his clothes and join her; instead, sensing that she was about to end her swim, he walked to the water's edge and sat down on the log. He waited for her to realize he was there.

After floating in the sun-drenched water for a bit longer, Emeline rolled over and swam a few feet, then stood up, her body halfway out of the river, wringing water from her long hair. Raising her head, she spotted him and uttered a sharp shriek. Instinctively, she covered her breasts with her small hands, barely shielding them from his view.

"John, what are you…how long have you…?"

He picked up the thin cotton chemise, his fingers playing with the tiny buttons along the front, "Long enough." The corners of his mouth rose slightly as he watched her gasp when she realized he had watched her undress.

"Turn around, I want to get out."

"Go ahead, I'm not stopping you," he stretched his long legs out, boots nearly in the water.

"Please…," her voice was soft, pleading.

Sheppard stood up, picking up the towel and took a step to the edge of the river, then turned around. He held out the towel and heard the water splash as she exited the river.

She snatched the towel from his hand, "Don't look."

Emeline quickly dried off; Sheppard saw a shapely arm reaching for the kickers, then a hand appeared in front of him, "May I please have my chemise?" He handed it to her.

"I cannot believe you spied on me."

He spun around as she was slipping on the chemise. Grasping her by the shoulders, he demanded, "Do you realize how dangerous it is for you to come here alone?"

"I come here all the time; this is not dangerous."

"Not dangerous? Cowen has already sent his men to take your ranch, shooting and threatening to kill everyone, and his men have stalked you, so wandering off by yourself, then taking off your clothes and swimming nude is not safe. Eme, you might be tough and strong, but you're too small to fight off a man. Any man who lacked control would take advantage of you." He released her, "Finish getting dressed, so we can go back."

Sheppard made no effort to turn away as Emeline buttoned her chemise, then put on the rest of her clothes. Walking her to where Bebette was waiting, he picked her up and set her on the horse's back; he reached for the reins, and led Bebette toward Pegasus. He mounted the stallion, and handed Emeline her horse's reins.

Before they moved, Emeline asked, her voice taunting, "You said any man who lacked control would take advantage of me. Are you in control, John Sheppard?"

Shepard turned to her, his eyes dark, replying in a raspy voice, "Barely."

~ooOoo~

Emeline rode ahead of Sheppard on the way back to the ranch. When they arrived, she turned Bebette into one of the paddocks and stalked into the house. Sheppard took Pegasus to a watering trough and then put him in another paddock. As he climbed the steps to the house, Conchita was waiting.

"Señor, she went swimming?"

He nodded, still too angry to talk. Conchita smiled, "She loves to swim at the Big Pond. She told me she can think there. We never worried about her going there alone, but now…now it is too dangerous. You keep her safe, Señor John."

Sheppard was standing next to the tiny woman; he leaned down, kissing her on the top of the head, "I promise I will."

"Come, lunch is ready; everyone needs strength for what is facing us." Conchita grabbed his hand, and Sheppard followed her into the kitchen.

Lunch was nearly over when Emeline appeared, her still damp hair twisted into a bun at the base of her neck. She sat down, filling a tortilla with beans and chorizo without saying a word. This time, Sheppard didn't need to tell Chuck, quietly the young man motioned for everyone to leave.

When they were alone, she muttered between bites, "You stay around here long enough and Chuck's going to become just like you, very subtle."

He didn't reply for a long minute, and could tell she was getting antsy, finally he asked, "What were you thinking?"

She took a drink of water before she answered, "I was hot, and I wanted to take a swim."

"It was dangerous…you could…"

"Could have been what, raped, murdered, or spied on…it appears, I was spied on."

He slammed his fist down on the table, causing Emeline to flinch, "Do you realize that everyone on this ranch is willing to fight for you? Hell, even Rodney came to protect you, and I didn't think he could shoot. You can't go doing things like this; we could lose you."

Emeline diverted her eyes, not looking at him, "I'm sorry. What I did was foolish, and I know it, but I had to get away and think. I'm used to doing what I want, making decisions for myself, but in this situation, I'm not…"

"No one's trying to make decisions for you."

She looked up, her eyes boring into his, "You and Evan haven't been making decisions for me?"

"Alright, maybe we have, but only to keep you safe; not to take over your life."

"I told you not to treat me like a child; I'm a grown woman, who's been on her own for a very long time." She was trembling, "I just wish you'd…,"

"What, what do you want?"

"I want you to treat me like…"

Sheppard's voice was husky, "A woman?"

Emeline shook her head and stood up, "No, an equal." As she walked out of the kitchen, she said, "I think you're already aware I'm a woman."

Under Chuck's tutelage, Sheppard and Paul finished planting the small garden next to the house. For the rest of the afternoon, the hands attended to the horses, and some minor repair jobs. Sheppard was repairing a shutter on first floor of the main house when Lorne and Doc Beckett arrived.

Beckett hopped off his horse, "Well, laddie, you seem to be making yourself quite at home here."

"Doc, what brings you out here?"

"I wanted to look at Chuck's wound and see how Eme's doing. By the way, let me look at that cut on your face." Sheppard got down from the ladder, turning his injured cheek for the doctor to see, "Looks good, healing quite well."

"Must have had a good doctor," Sheppard grinned. "If you're looking for Eme, she's in the house; said she was going to dust this afternoon. Chuck's in the tack room; I'll send him inside."

Beckett was climbing the steps to the veranda when Sheppard asked, "How are the wounded men doing?"

"Lost one today, but I believe the others will survive."

Lorne spoke as the doctor disappeared into the house, "Sent a telegram to the territorial judge requesting a special criminal judge. If they send Smitherson, he'll just let all these thugs go; Judge Smitherson has been on Cowen's payroll since the bastard showed up in Wickenburg."

"Nothing like the Wild West; walk with me while I get Chuck," The two men headed toward the stables, "Heard you were a policeman back east, what made you come out here?"

"My parents died when I was young, older aunt brought me up; she died about five years ago. I was a copper in New York City when I met a beautiful strawberry blond who wanted adventure. Old friend was a US Marshal, told me about Wickenburg needing a sheriff, so I applied and got the job."

"Regrets?"

Lorne sighed deeply, "No regrets, but right now I'm really frustrated. Cowen's smart; even though we know he's behind all this, I still can't tie him to the attempt to kill you yesterday or to Anton's death."

Sheppard pursed his lips, "He's not going to give up."

"No he isn't, John; I'm just worried what he's gonna do. The man's ego and greed have been sorely tested by you, and by Emeline."

They reached the stable, and found Chuck. Sheppard told him Beckett was at the house and wanted to check his arm. Before he left, Chuck said, "Boss, I noticed a seam loose on your saddle, was about to repair it."

Sheppard's saddle was sitting on a rail in the tack room; he picked it up, "Got some cording in the bunkhouse; I'll work on it this evening. Thanks, Chuck."

As Chuck walked out, Lorne gave soft whistle, "Boss? The doc was right, making yourself right at home here, aren't' you?

"Don't start with me, Lorne." Sheppard didn't look at the sheriff as he added, "That's the problem, it's beginning to feel like home. Let's go back to the house."

Sheppard dropped the black leather saddle off in his quarters, and he and Lorne headed for the kitchen, where they found Beckett putting a new bandage on Chuck's wound. Emeline was pouring coffee; she reached for two more cups when they entered.

Taking the cup of steaming coffee from Emeline, Sheppard sat down at the table, "How's he doing, doc?"

"Fine, bullet just grazed him, left a nasty little gouge, but as long as he keeps it clean, should heal fine."

Emeline sat down, "Carson, Evan, can you stay for supper?"

Lorne shook his head, "Not tonight, Laura's been real uncomfortable today; doc thinks she might be getting close to having the baby. Jennifer's staying with her and," Lorne smiled, glancing over at Sheppard, "Rodney's been watching over them since I've been so busy. He seems to be getting over his shyness when it comes to Jennifer."

Sheppard's left eyebrow rose slightly, "All Rodney needed was some confidence, good for him."

Beckett chuckled, "Cheeky bugger, who's playing matchmaker now?" His comment elicited a glare but nothing else from Sheppard.

They talked about the previous afternoon's events while finishing their coffee. After taking his last gulp of coffee, Lorne stood up, "I want to talk to my deputies for a bit before I go; Eme, thanks for the coffee."

Chuck rose as well, "I'll relieve Clyde; he could probably use a cup of coffee." Chuck grabbed a couple of mugs, "I'll take Dwayne a cup, too."

Beckett whispered to Sheppard, "I'd like to talk to Eme, alone."

Standing up, Sheppard announced, "Going back out to finish fixin' the shutter; thanks for the coffee, Emeline."

Twenty minutes later, Emeline and Beckett walked out onto the porch where Sheppard and Lorne were talking to the deputies. Beckett slapped Lorne on the back, "Let's get back to town, lad; I've got a feeling I'm gonna be delivering a baby soon." He hugged Emeline, "Don't forget what I told you, lassie." She nodded and returned the hug.

As Lorne and Beckett rode off, the deputies, Clyde and Dwayne headed back to their posts, leaving Sheppard and Emeline alone on the veranda.

Sheppard was curious about Beckett's comment, "What did Beckett tell you?"

Emeline held his gaze for a moment, then spoke softly, "He told me to watch out for strangers." She whirled around and disappeared into the house, leaving Sheppard staring at the closed door.

~ooOoo~

Night fell, and after a hearty dinner of baked chicken and roasted potatoes, Sheppard joined Chuck, Paul, and Ramon in a game of poker in the kitchen. Emeline and Conchita were cutting up onions, tomatoes, and peppers, picked that afternoon so that Conchita could make salsa.

Sheppard folded his cards and as the others played out the hand, he took time to observe his surroundings. He realized that it had been a very long time since he had felt such contentment. Despite the danger they still faced he felt at peace for the first time in his life. The young men who worked this ranch, Julio and Conchita, Lorne, the doc, Rodney – for some reason, he felt more at ease with them than any people he knew. They were quickly becoming the family he had always wished for but never had.

However, Sheppard knew that the real reason he felt content was the beautiful woman currently cutting up onions. Tears caused by the strong onions streamed down Emeline's face, and she was laughing with Conchita about her discomfort. How he loved to see her laugh, even with her eyes reddened. He was staring at her when she seemed to sense his gaze; looking around at him, she gave him a soft smile. Sheppard felt his heart swell; soon, very soon, he had to confront his feelings. He only hoped she felt what he felt.

Emeline and Conchita finished the salsa, and bid the poker players good night; after a couple more hands, Sheppard sent the guys to bed, and took his usual spot on the front parlor settee. He fell asleep thinking about the Cajun beauty asleep upstairs.

A few hours later he woke with a start, sensing someone was nearby. He reached for his gun and eased off the settee as quietly as he could. From the shaft of moonlight spilling into the entry hall, Sheppard knew the front door was open. He slipped up and peering out the open door saw Emeline standing on the veranda. She was softly calling for Otis.

He walked out, "What are you doing out here?"

Emeline jumped, "Oh…you scared me," she took a breath, "Otis got restless, pawing at the door, wanting to go out. I let him out, but he won't come back."

The hairs on Sheppard's neck bristled, "Which way did he go when you let him out?"

"Toward the bunkhouse and the stable," she answered.

Before Sheppard could reply, Otis' angry barking echoed near the stable, then a loud yelp and silence. Sheppard ran down the steps, yelling at Emeline, "Get back inside."

Running toward the stables, Sheppard saw a dark shadow running away, Otis's limp body lying on the ground. He rushed to the dog, his heart beating wildly. Just as he reached Otis, Emeline screamed behind him.

"Otis…oh my god, John; is he alive?"

Sheppard dropped to his knees, "Hey buddy…," gently he pressed his hand to the dog's chest, relief flooding him as he realized Otis was still breathing. "He's alive, just stunned, has some blood on his snout, think he was kicked."

Emeline was on her knees next to him, her white gown flowing behind her. The wind was picking up, carrying the first rumblings of thunder through the air. "Otis, oh...my…are you alright?" She buried her head in the dog's furry neck.

Otis' tail began to wag slightly, and Sheppard slipped his arm around Emeline, "I think he's going to be alright." Hearing boots pounding the ground behind him, he turned quickly to see Chuck, Ramon, and the two deputies running toward him. Conchita was not far behind them.

Chuck asked, "Boss, what happened?"

"Someone's out here; Otis must have heard him and wanted outside. Guess he found the intruder; I heard him barking furiously, then the guy must have kicked him. Get some lanterns; I saw someone heading behind the stable."

Clouds were gathering quickly, and faint lighting was beginning to illuminate the sky. Sheppard was about to pick up Otis to take him in the house, when a bright flash lit up the darkness. Within seconds, Julio's voice rang out, "Fire! Stable's on fire!"

Emeline screamed, "The horses; we've gotta get them out." She grabbed Conchita, "Stay with Otis."

Sheppard and the others were already running for the stable doors when she caught up with them, Chuck and Sheppard got the doors open and rushed inside, beginning to open stalls and push the frightened horses into the aisle, where Emeline and the deputies were leading them outside. They were working their way to the back of the stable when the fire, which had started in the tack room, broke through the main wall. Flames began to spread quickly, across the center of the stable, blocking passage to the horses in the rear stalls.

Sheppard grabbed Emeline and pulled her out of the barn, "Stay out here; we'll get them."

However, Sheppard already knew that the stable only had one door on the front and one on the side, and the side door was before the location of the fire. He realized getting through the flames was going to be nearly impossible.

Emeline screamed, "No, Bebette and Pegasus are back there; we have to get them out. Paul, where's Paul? John, where's Paul?' Emeline was crying, fighting against the grip Sheppard had on her.

Chuck was standing next to Sheppard, his voice full of pain, "Paul's on the Widow's Walk."

Emeline tried to break away from Sheppard as the flames leaped toward the roof of the stable. Sheppard pulled her tightly to him, "We can't get to them. I'm sorry."

She collapsed against him, pleading with him, "No…we have…to save…them." Her knees went out from under her, and Sheppard eased her to the ground.

"Eme…," Sheppard tried to comfort her but his own heart was breaking. He could hear Pegasus' whinny, and he couldn't get to him or Paul and the beautiful little mare; they were going to lose them all.

Sheppard felt something touch his shoulder; it was Otis, a bit wobbly, but he had come to them. Rubbing the dog's head he whispered, "At least, we didn't lose you."

The thunderstorm was on them, and Sheppard felt the first drops of rain strike his shoulders. He needed to get Emeline inside, "Come on I need to get you in the house," but he was met with only sobs. "Oh, Emeline…I'm so sorry…" He felt her arms tighten around him just as he heard something else, Pegasus' whinny, but this time much closer.

Ramon yelled, "Look, señor, look…"

Sheppard turned to see the most magnificent sight he had ever seen, silhouetted against the orange-yellow flames was the shadow of two horses and a rider. Pulling Emeline from the ground, he swung her around, "They're alright…"

Paul brought both horses to a halt. Ramon and Chuck got to him first, helping him off Pegasus' back. Covered with soot, Paul looked at Sheppard. "That's some horse you've got; I didn't think we could make it, but he wasn't staying."

Emeline grabbed Paul, hugging him tightly, "Thank goodness you're alive." She let go of him, and flung her arms around Bebette's neck, Otis barking and jumping beside her.

Sheppard walked up to Pegasus, "Hey, boy; I thought I lost you." The stallion neighed softly, bobbing his head up and down. Sheppard walked around him, running his hands along the stallion's sleek body, "You hurt anywhere big guy?"

Paul finished drinking a dipper of water Conchita brought him, his voice hoarse from the smoke, "John, I managed to get down…from the loft in the back of barn, t-that big guy had broken out of his stall… he was trying to push Bebette's stall door open. I opened it, but s-she wouldn't budge. Pegasus g-grabbed her mane in his teeth and tugged 'til she came out. I hopped up on him, and with him nudging the mare all the way, he went straight through the flames. I don't think…we'd have gotten out without him."

"Paul…I…thanks, I think he needed you as much as you needed him. Glad you made it."

Heavy rain began to fall, helping to dampen the fire. Chuck approached Sheppard, "Looks like the rain may put the fire out."

"For once we might have some luck," looking around he didn't see the deputies, "Where are Clyde and Dwayne?"

"They thought they spotted someone in the tree line behind the stable, went chasing after him."

"Chuck, make certain that no embers caught any of the other buildings on fire. Did we get all the horses out?"

"All of 'em, we got lucky."

"That we were," before he could say anything else, he spotted the deputies coming from the field behind the stable, a man between them.

Clyde pushed the prisoner into the lantern light, "Mr. Sheppard, one of 'em got away but look who we found; name's Grainger." The man was one of Cowen's hired thugs, one of the two who fled from the attack the day before.

Sheppard walked up to him, "Did Cowen tell you to set fire to the stable?"

When Grainger didn't answer, Sheppard pulled his gun and stuck the barrel under the man's chin. "Answer me; if you don't, I doubt anyone here will care if I kill you. Did Cowen send you?"

Dropping his eyes toward Sheppard's gun beneath his chin, he croaked, "Y-yes…Cowen ordered us to set fire to the stable."

Sheppard pulled the gun away, "Clyde, get this bastard back to town and let Lorne know what's happened." The deputies nodded and led Grainger away.

He was watching the last of the flames from the fire flicker out in the heavy rain, when an arm slid into his. Sheppard looked down to see Emeline standing next to him, a poncho over her nightgown. "Dressed for the occasion I see."

Resting her head on his chest, she whispered, "Thank you, I'm glad you're here."

"You need to go inside; we'll see to Paul and the horses." He glanced around for Conchita and motioned for her.

"Take her inside, both of you get into dry clothes."

"Si, señor; I make coffee and maybe some hot chocolate."

Emeline resisted, "No; I want to stay out here with you."

"Not trying to tell you what to do, but go inside and take Otis with you. He's had enough excitement for one day."

"That's an understatement," She looked up at him, "I'll go inside."

Two hours later, Sheppard entered the main house, tired but satisfied that no other fires were going to ignite. Conchita had brought them hot chocolate, followed up by coffee a bit later. He carried the empty coffee pots with him to the kitchen, where he found Conchita making biscuits.

"Don't you think you need to get some sleep?"

"Señor, I couldn't sleep; these boys they will be hungry in the morning, so I am making biscuits and gravy and maybe pancakes. Señorita Eme teach me how to make pancakes."

"Pancakes sound good to me, but you still need to rest."

"I will rest when we are safe." She answered, patting Sheppard's hand as he squeezed her shoulder. "I believe Señorita Eme is in the parlor; she refused to go to her room. I believe she is waiting for you."

Sheppard slipped into the parlor to find Emeline asleep on the settee; Otis curled up at her feet. Couching next to the dog, he whispered, "You doing alright, Otis?" Otis licked his face, "I take that as a yes. You're a good dog; you heard someone out there and tried to tell us."

"J-John…"

"It's me…you need to go to bed."

She sat up, "No; I'm fine. I don't want go to bed."

Her voice was quivering and Sheppard sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. "It's over, Emeline, and you need to rest."

"So do you."

"I'm alright."

She pulled away from him, "I-I'm very glad you didn't leave; I don't think we would survive this without you."

He leaned toward her, allowing his lips to brush her forehead. "I never intended on leaving, no way I would leave you in Cowen's grip. Now off to bed, you and Otis."

"No, I'm sleeping right here, stay with us."

She shifted position, giving him room to lie down, "Please."

Sheppard stretched out on the settee, and Emeline slid beside him, nestling her head against his chest. Otis hopped onto the end of the couch and wormed his way beside Sheppard's leg. As he wrapped his arms around Emeline, Sheppard thought about the name Anton had given the ranch. He wondered if The Last Chance ranch was his chance at love.

* * *

Only had time to post Part 5 today...will post the remaining two chapters tomorrow.

Thanks for taking time to read this, hope you are enjoying!


	6. Part Six

_**Part 6**_

Awaking shortly before dawn, Sheppard managed to persuade a very sleepy Emeline to go to bed in her room. He carried her up the stairs, tucked her in, leaving Otis lying at the foot of the bed keeping watch over her.

Returning downstairs, he walked onto the veranda and sat down in one of the rockers, staring at the horizon as the first glimmer of light appeared. The air was damp from the rain, and the acrid smell of smoke permeated his nostrils. He found himself running a gamut of emotion from stark fear at what they could have lost in the fire, to rage at Cowen for putting Emeline and everyone, including the animals, in danger.

As the sky lightened, he walked to the veranda railing, his eyes tracking to the paddock where Pegasus and Bebette were grazing. He noticed how closely Bebette was staying to the big stallion, and smiled as he remembered how Emeline clung to him during the night. He had taken as much solace from her nearness as he hoped she had. Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard glanced around to see Chuck approaching.

"Mornin' boss, spotted you coming out on the porch. How's Miss Emeline?"

"She's asleep with Otis keeping guard. Fire still smoldering or the rain put it out?"

"Thank goodness for that heavy rain; those embers we put out before you came to the house were the last of the fire," Chuck reported as he sat wearily on the top step.

Sheppard rocked gently, "About time we got a bit of luck. How's Paul feeling this morning?"

"He was coughing pretty badly last night but breathing a lot better this morning. I checked on the horses; they seem to be all right. Pegasus and Bebette got the worst of the smoke, and Julio kept an eye on them while we got some sleep; both are breathing fine now."

Sheppard relaxed, "That's good; I suspect Doc Beckett will show up today to check on Paul, if he can get here."

Chuck lamented, "This ain't over, is it?"

Rising from the rocker, Sheppard sat down on the step next to Chuck, sighing deeply, "No, it's not. We've defeated Cowen's efforts at every turn; even with a nearly destroyed stable, we didn't lose anyone or any of the stock. He's got to be more desperate than before, and I think we are going to have some more trouble."

"Well, I think some of the stable is salvageable…might not be as bad as we feared, thanks to the rain. When it's full light, we'll be able to tell how much work it will take to rebuild."

"We'll rebuild the stable back to the way it was I promise."

"John, does that mean you're gonna stay here? We'd all like for you to stay…" Chuck stammered, "I…I don't mean to say Miss Emeline isn't capable of running this ranch. She's done an amazing job, especially with the cards she's been dealt, but well, we'd all like you to stay."

Sheppard pursed his lips, "Let's just say I intend on staying until Cowen is no longer a threat, and the stable is rebuilt. What happens after that isn't up to me." Grabbing the banister, he tiredly stood, "There's enough light to check out the stable, let's do that, then head to breakfast."

"Breakfast sounds good."

As they headed toward the barn, Sheppard teased Chuck, "I have it on good authority, we're having pancakes."

Snickering, Chuck said, "Oh…so Conchita's already telling you kitchen secrets…you're not leaving."

After surveying the damage to the barn, Sheppard and Chuck looked in on Paul, who they found awake and hungry, all headed for the kitchen.

Conchita was at the stove placing pieces of fried country ham onto a platter. She turned as she heard them come in, "Ah, señors, breakfast will be ready shortly. Paulie you sit down; I will get you a cup of coffee."

Chuck waved his hand, "I'll get his coffee; you tend to those pancakes."

Conchita smiled, "Señor John told you." Chuck nodded, and headed for the coffee pot; Conchita turned to Sheppard, "Señor John the señorita has not come down yet, could you go wake her?"

"Shouldn't we let her sleep longer?"

"She will be mucho upset if we do not wake her, and I think you are the one to do that." The little Mexican señora's eyes were twinkling.

Sheppard sucked in a jagged breath, "Alright I'll go wake her."

Easing the door open, he slipped into Emeline's room. He carried her there in the dark, only an oil lamp in the hall to illuminate the way. In the daylight, he saw that the room was large; two big windows in addition to the French doors flooded the room with sunlight. There was a large dresser, a vanity, a chair, and a fainting couch, along with two large wardrobes. However, his focus was the high four-poster bed, and the small figure curled up in the center of a thick feather mattress.

Otis was lying next to Emeline; he raised his head, his tail wagging as Sheppard approached the bed. The bedclothes had partially slipped to the floor, the thin nightgown bunched around her thighs, exposing her lovely legs to his view. Sheppard sat down on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through her long silky tresses spilling across her pillow. Leaning over, he whispered, "Emeline, wake up."

She stirred, turning slightly toward him, and he whispered again, this time closer to her ear. She swatted at him, and he grabbed her hand; she woke with a start, struggling against him.

"It's alright, Emeline; it's me."

She rolled onto her back, which placed her beneath his chest, "What are you doing here?"

"Conchita sent me to wake you, time for breakfast."

"I'm awake you can get up now."

"Umm…you were quite anxious for me to sleep next to you last night."

"I…John, I…"

He pressed his thumb against her lips to silence her, "I know...last night was tough on everyone." He pushed away from her, allowing his gaze to trail down her body, then stood up. "So, come on, get up, and get dressed; Conchita's making pancakes."

"Then leave so I can," she pulled the sheet over her.

"Oh, that's right you're shy about dressing in front of me; just not about undressing in front of me."

Her shoulders drooped in exasperation, "John…"

Sheppard walked over to one of the wardrobes and opened it, surprised to find it full of very elegant dresses. He pulled one of the gowns out, a russet colored silk, "Beautiful gown."

She raked her hands through her tousled hair, "I don't why, but I had my brother ship my entire wardrobe here. Most of those dresses are inappropriate for the location and the weather; I suppose I simply wanted a touch of home. I had him include Mamere's wedding gown; I thought it only right that her gown was on the ranch."

Hanging the dress up, Sheppard went to the other wardrobe, where her ranch clothes were hanging, "I see you have more of those Mexican blouses and skirts, I like those."

"I didn't expect you to be so interested in fashion."

He chuckled, "Not in fashion, just in you, you looked lovely dressed like this." He pulled out a pale blue blouse and dark blue patterned skirt, "I like this," laying the clothes across the fainting couch, "See you downstairs."

Sheppard was at the table, a stack of pancakes, ham, and biscuits in front of him, when Emeline, followed by Otis, entered the kitchen. He caught her eye as she walked toward him, the corners of his mouth turned slightly up; she was wearing the blue peasant blouse and skirt. The look she gave him was clearly a warning not to comment.

Emeline gave Paul a quick hug, and patted Chuck on the arm, before she sat down. Conchita placed a small stack of pancakes with syrup already poured on, in front of her. Emeline took a bite then asked, "Paul, are you feeling alright?"

His voice was hoarse, "Yes, ma'am; throats still a bit raw but I'm fine."

She smiled, looking at Sheppard, "And the horses?"

"They seem to be fine; Bebette's staying pretty close to Pegasus this morning." His eyes glimmered with intensity, wondering if she understood his meaning.

Emeline dropped her head, looking at her stack of pancakes, "What do we need to do today? Can we start clearing out the debris from the fire?"

"Maybe, if it's cooled down enough. First thing, we need to do is check the fencing in the paddocks, make sure the horses can't get out, and get some hay out there for them. At least, the rain filled the water troughs, so for right now we don't have to worry about carrying water to them."

Emeline took a sip of coffee, then said, "Conchita and I can help with that."

"No, you both need to rest; we've got enough hands. Clyde returned from the town a bit ago, and once the deputies have some breakfast they can begin their watch." When Emeline started to protest, he shook his head, "No arguments; you both stay in the house today."

After breakfast, Sheppard and the hands headed outside to start the cleanup. The fire was completely out, so after they took care of the horses, Sheppard, Julio, and Paul began to knock down the burned and scorched wooded planks from the tack room and the stable, while Paul loaded them into the wagon. Due to the heavy rain, the fire had not done as much damage as Sheppard had feared.

By midday, storm clouds began to build again; instead of stopping for lunch, Conchita brought ham, biscuits, and coffee to them. Sheppard motioned for everyone to eat, and sat down on a bench outside the stable. He was biting into a biscuit when Conchita walked up, "Señor, Señorita Emeline had decided that she would like to have a special dinner tonight. She thinks the hombres need a bit of a lift. She asked if you could let them stop a bit early to get cleaned up."

"Of course, that's nice; these guys deserve something special. Tell her, not a problem."

Conchita grinned, "Si, señor; she will be most pleased."

As she walked away, Sheppard had an uneasy feeling that Conchita was not telling him everything. He shook his head, both the women on The Last Chance ranch were a bit of an enigma to him, but he found he liked that aspect of Emeline and Conchita more and more.

Lorne arrived shortly after their midday break, his exhaustion evident. As the sheriff slid off his bay quarter horse, Sheppard asked, "You alright? Looks like you haven't slept in a month."

"Feels that way; to be honest, I haven't between all the prisoners we have and this," he gestured toward the barn, "plus, doc says the baby will be coming in a few hours, you could say I'm tired."

"How's Laura?"

"She's little but she's tough…she'll be fine."

Sheppard scoffed, "We seem to up to our ears in tough little women around here."

Lorne bobbed his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, "That we are, John. I can't stay long for obvious reasons, but doc wants to know if you need him out here with Paul getting trapped in the fire?"

"No, he's okay, a little hoarse but otherwise fine."

"Good; I wanted to let you know I've heard back from the district judge. He's agreed to send replacement judge, but it'll be at least a week before he arrives; he told me to wait to do anything with Cowen until the new judge gets here."

"Then we wait and stay alert; Cowen's not done."

"No, he's not; despite the fact that he has few hands to help him, he's still a threat. All it takes is one or two to do some damage, like last night."

That's for certain; we'll stay alert I promise."

"Wish I could send you more deputies, but I've got my hands full in town. Clyde and Dwayne are all I can spare, had to deputize some of the town folk just to take care of the prisoners." Lorne mounted his horse, "I'd better be getting back before it rains. You be careful."

"We will; send word about Laura, I'm sure Emeline will want to know."

Lorne nodded, "Will do," and headed back to town.

Mid-afternoon, Chuck announced he was hungry and went to the kitchen to see if there were any biscuits left. When he returned with a plate of biscuits and honey, he remarked as he offered Sheppard one, "Don't know what Miss Eme's fixin' for dinner, but it smells wonderful. I think it's something Cajun."

Sheppard hadn't seen her all day, and realized how much he missed her, "Emeline doing alright?"

Chuck shook his head, "Don't know, Conchita said she was taking a bath, so I didn't see her."

As Chuck took the plate of biscuits to the others, Sheppard sighed, visions of Emeline floating in the Big Pond filled his thoughts.

~ooOoo~

Late in the afternoon, they quit work and began to get ready for dinner. For the first time since the fire, Sheppard felt clean, no longer smelling of smoke due to the outdoor shower Anton had Chuck and Julio rig behind the bunkhouse years before. The paved stone base well worn from the years and the elements, the wooden structure grayed with age, the hinges on the swinging door rusty. Next to the stall, was a wooden tower extending eight feet in the air, and holding a large barrel. A large spigot extended out over the shower, a fancy showerhead that Chuck said Anton had ordered from France dispensed the water. Not quite as enjoyable as a hot soaking bath but at that moment, Sheppard was happy.

Slipping on his pants, he hurried to his quarters, deciding to take a quick nap; dinner wasn't until dusk. Walking into his bunkhouse quarters, he tripped over something, his saddle. He picked it up, sinking down on the bed; he'd forgotten that he brought it to the bunkhouse to repair the ripped seam. Last night when the tack room burned, he hadn't even considered it was lost. Running his fingers along the soft black leather, he smiled; the saddle had been a gift from his grandfather, who also owned a Friesian horse. Until he acquired Pegasus, he hadn't been able to use the saddle. He felt relief that he hadn't lost the only thing he had left of his grandfather. Grabbing one of the saddlebags lying on the floor next to the bed, he rummaged for the cording and large darning needle and went to work repairing the rip in one of the seams. With the repair done, he stretched out and fell asleep as the first large drops of rain hit the window.

A knock on the door woke him with a start, and he heard Paul's voice, "John dinner's in about ten minutes."

A soft rain was still falling as Sheppard hurriedly dressed in black pants and shirt, fastened his gun belt around his hips, grabbed his hat, and headed for supper. As he stepped out into the yard, he saw Julio and Conchita, carrying a big iron pot and trays of food toward the bunkhouse.

"Was I wrong, is dinner out here?"

Conchita smiled slyly, "Our dinner in the bunkhouse, Señor John; you are eating in the main house." She continued toward the bunkhouse, smiling.

He continued toward the house, where Otis greeted him on the veranda, tail wagging furiously. He stooped down, petting the shaggy dog, "You alright boy? That was a hard hit to the head you took." Tail wagging harder, Otis gave him a lick on the chin, "You're a hero, Otis; you warned us and saved everyone. I'll make certain you get some extra chow."

Sheppard stepped into the entry hall, hanging his hat on a hook by the door. He glanced toward the parlor and the settee where he and Emeline had slept the night before, remembering the soft feel of her body next to his. Noticing the glow of candles to his left, he peeked into the dining room, where the table had been set for two. His pulse began to quicken; Emeline was going to a lot of trouble for dinner and had apparently kicked everyone out of the house. He wondered what the Cajun beauty had in mind for the evening.

Entering the kitchen, he found Emeline transferring food from an iron pot on the stove into a china bowl. Two long thin loaves of fresh-baked bread sat on the table; the aroma whetting his appetite, as was the stunning woman standing before him. He waited until she sat the bowl down to speak.

"Need some help?"

Emeline swirled around, and Sheppard's pulse raced a little faster. She was dressed in a long straight black silk skirt and white silk blouse with narrow bands of twisted fabric forming the tiny sleeves. The sweetheart neckline displayed what he considered the best of all her many attributes. Her only adornment was a simple gold locket lying against the swell of her breasts. Her thick dark hair was twisted into a soft coil, unruly tendrils already escaping. She was beautiful.

She smiled, "No everything's ready, go sit down and I'll bring the food."

"I can help."

"No, please sit down."

Doing as she asked, Sheppard sat on a green and gold tapestry covered chair at the mahogany dining table. Emeline following with the serving bowl and bread, then sat down across from him.

Sheppard noticed her hand tremble slightly as she unfolded her napkin. Pointing to a bottle of red wine sitting between them, she asked. "Would you do the honors of opening the wine?"

"I'd be happy to oblige ma'am." Picking up the corkscrew, he opened the wine with ease and poured them both a glass, then raised his glass, "I believe a toast is in order."

"I was thinking the same thing, but you go first."

He shook his head, "No, ladies first."

Emeline's voice was soft, sultry, "Thank you for all that you have done for The Last Chance and for me. I know this isn't over yet, but we would have never gotten this far without you. Salud," she tipped her glass to his and sipped the wine.

Making a slight grimace, Emeline muttered, "Oh…I think Papere's wine needs to breathe just a bit."

"Just a little acidic, it'll get better when the air gets to it. Now, my toast," raising his glass," To the bravest, and the most beautiful woman I have ever known." Their glasses clinked as they came together.

"I don't believe I deserved such a toast, John, but I thank you."

She pulled her eyes away from his, and said, "Hand me your plate, and I will serve you the best jambalaya this side of New Orleans." She spooned the hot, spicy dish on his plate and then served herself.

Handing him a chunk of bread, she sighed, "I will say that not all the ingredients are exactly right but at least the Andouille sausage will give some authentic flavor."

Sheppard took a huge bite, then nodded approvingly, "This is really good."

Beaming, she admonished, "Glad you like, now eat."

He took a couple more bites, then a drink of wine, "Emeline, why are you doing this?" He gestured to the table, "Don't get me wrong I'm enjoying this immensely, but why?"

Emeline seemed uneasy over his question, "I told you I wanted to thank you."

Deciding not to pursue that question, for the moment, he remarked, "You are an excellent cook."

"Thanks, there was a cook at the hotel, but I enjoyed helping in the kitchen, and while I was in Paris, I studied cooking, but I still prefer food from my Cajun roots. However, I am learning more about Mexican cooking every day."

"How did Julio and Conchita end up working for your grandfather?"

"They had been working for a rancher in Texas, but the man died and his widow sold the ranch, returning east, leaving them with nowhere to go. Papere found them running a food stand near the border as he traveled here and asked them to come with him. They were very young at the time, but Chita said Papere was kind, and they were alone. This is their home; I don't think they would ever choose to live elsewhere, and I wouldn't want them to leave."

"I know Paul's story, guess he came here about four years ago?" Emeline nodded and he continued, "What about Ramon?"

"Ramon came into town with a pretty rough group of men, some of whom ended up working for Cowen. Conchita said that Papere saw something in Ramon, and offered him a job, that was three years ago. Ramon was very loyal to Papere and was possibly more devastated than we were when Papere died. He found my grandfather hanging from the tree; if you notice, Ramon does not go to the side of the house where the tallest tree is located."

"Your grandfather seemed to attract people like himself, kind, hardworking, loyal."

She nodded, "That he did."

"You're very much like him, Eme."

"I may be but I'm not certain I know how to handle what's going now."

"You're doing fine, as long as you don't go swimming nude…alone…again." His gaze was steady, and she blushed deeply, looking away.

"Tell me, I know you were a soldier, and that you are from back east, but who are you really?

"Good question, I'm not certain how to answer that. I'm just a former soldier who really doesn't have much of an identity at the moment. I had a similar situation to yours with my father; he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, and I wanted to be a soldier. Entered West Point without his approval, and let's just say, we never patched things up. He tolerated my visiting him and my brother, but that was about all. My mother died when I was very young, and I don't think either one of us ever recovered from her loss." He took another drink of wine, "Thanks to an old friend's intervention I was allowed to retire from the Army instead of being court-martialed, and I headed out west. There was nothing left for me at home."

Emeline sipped her wine, "We are certainly misfits running from our expected lives, aren't we?"

"Two peas in a pod, or whatever that saying is."

"I know this situation with Cowen is not resolved; what are we going to do?"

"Lorne said it best this afternoon, Cowen's forces have been depleted; he only has a handful of men left to help him. The fact is that it only takes one, or as we found out last night two, to destroy everything."

"Thank goodness everyone and all the horses are alright…"

Sheppard interjected, "And Otis."

She smiled, "Of course, Otis…if he hadn't heard them, Paul and the horses, maybe the rest of us would be dead."

"We're not dead, and we're not defeated, but we are also not out of the woods. Lorne still doesn't have enough proof to tie any of these incidents to Cowen, even with the confession by the bastard last night; until we can do that, he's going to be trouble."

"What do you think he'll do?"

"He's bound to be getting desperate; whatever he does we have to be ready."

"Yes, we do. Now eat, before the jambalaya gets cold."

He poured more wine for them, "We need to rebuild the stable. Do you know if your grandfather had any plans drawn up?"

"If there are plans they would be in his office, I remember seeing plans for this house, so I suspect there are for the stable and barn as well."

"Is there a lumber mill nearby?"

"There's a small one about two miles from here, otherwise the closest lumber mill is in Flagstaff, nearly 200 miles away."

"Then we need to talk to the local sawmill owner and see how quickly he can get boards cut for us."

Emeline had a forkful of food to her mouth, and nearly dropped it, "Us ...what …do you mean, us?"

Sheppard took a bite of bread and swallowed, intentionally leaving her waiting for his answer, "I'm not going to leave when the stable needs to be rebuilt, you're going to need an extra hand."

"Are you asking me to hire you?"

"No…perhaps I forgot to tell you that my family is wealthy; have a trust fund from my grandfather, so I don't need your money. I simply want to help."

"Oh …I see." She twirled a loose strand of hair as she struggled for words, "Uh…thank you, I know all of us would appreciate your help. Finish your food because there is dessert, when I told Conchita that I was going to cook dinner for you, she insisted on making flan, and if you haven't had it before, it's delicious."

Sheppard smiled playfully, "Plying me with excellent food, wine, and now dessert. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were seducing me, Emeline Spencer."

He watched her reaction closely, and saw what he wanted to see. Her hands were trembling, and she wouldn't meet his gaze, when she did finally look at him, her eyes were dark limpid pools, "That must be the wine talking, Señor Sheppard."

"Then we should have some more," he declared as he poured the last of the wine into their glasses.

When they finished the jambalaya, Emeline took their plates to the kitchen, returning with the flan.

"This looks interesting; I haven't had this before." Taking a bite, "Umm…I think it's worth staying here for the food."

Emeline blurted out, "Just the food?" Realizing what she said, she quickly added, "I mean, everyone here likes you, I thought you might like them as well, I mean Otis really likes you…I..." She stopped and took a bite of flan as if she was trying to shut herself up.

"I do like everyone here; your grandfather was a good judge of character, as for Otis, I like that shaggy dog." He paused, "And I really like you."

Emeline was staring at her plate and at his comment, her head snapped up. "There you go with the wine again."

Sheppard pushed his nearly empty dessert plate away, and leaned back in his chair, "It's not the wine, and you know it."

They finished the flan in silence, Sheppard's words hanging in the air between them.

Emeline rose from her seat, "Are you finished? I'll just get these dishes to the kitchen." Walking around the table, she picked up his now empty dessert plate, then hesitated. She turned to him, "You said you're staying at the ranch because you expected Cowen would come here; is that the only reason you stayed?"

"Do you have to ask?"

He took the plate from her hand and pulled her into his lap, savoring the feel of her soft body against his. Slipping his hand behind her neck, he brushed his lips against hers. Emeline pushed against his chest, but he held her tighter, as he trailed his lips down her neck and along the soft curve of her shoulder. Raising his head, he looked into her eyes, "You're the only reason I stayed."

Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips against hers, Emeline continued to resist, but he was persistent until she surrendered. He deepened the kiss, and she moaned against his mouth, opening to him, as she slid her arms around his neck. Sheppard's hand slid along her ribcage to the tiny buttons on her blouse, and he began to unfasten them, until he could slide his hand under the blouse and along the lacy corset, she wore underneath. She gasped as his hand enclosed her breast.

Breaking the kiss, Sheppard sighed, "You are amazing." He gazed at her, candlelight flickering in her deep green eyes, now nearly black with desire.

Emeline smiled, her hands no longer pressing against his chest but caressing him, she unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers through the silky hair on his chest. When she leaned in, softly flicking her tongue across his chest, he pushed her to her feet, and stood up.

"J-John…," she whimpered softly, her lips seeking his skin.

Sheppard held her at arms length, "Do you want this? Tell me, do you want this?"

"Yes, I want this; I want you."

Sheppard blew out the candles, scooping Emeline into his arms and carried her up the stairs into her bedroom. Lightning illuminated the room as he placed her on the bed; kneeling down, he unbuckled the black shoes she was wearing, pleased to discover she wasn't wearing stockings. He whispered, "Stand up."

Reaching around her, he slid his hand along her waist until he found the buttons of her skirt, within seconds the black silk lay in a puddle around her feet, her blouse soon on the floor, as well. Leaving her standing in the glow from the lightning, he lit the oil lamp on the dresser, casting a soft golden glow to the room. Turning back to face her, his voice raspy, he said, "I want to be able to see you."

Clad only in knickers, chemise and corset, she looked ethereal, her desire evident in the heaving of her breasts. He leisurely unhooked the lacy white corset, which barely contained her form, and allowed his hands to roam across her back, to her slender waist, hips, cupping her derriere. She moaned, leaning against him, her hands wandering his body. He kissed her intensely while he tugged at the buttons of her chemise; she grasped his hands.

"No, you were right; I do like undressing for you." She stepped away from him and began slowly unbuttoning the silk chemise. He was frozen, unable to move, as she slipped the delicate garment from her shoulders, exposing her breasts to him. She bit her lower lip, then untied the satin ribbon holding the last remaining barrier to his gaze, and the silky knickers fell to the floor.

"Emeline, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He entwined his fingers in her hair until he found the clip holding her dark tresses in a twist; pulling it loose, her thick glossy hair cascaded about her shoulders. He slipped his arms around her, his mouth seeking hers, and they kissed deeply until he laid her on the bed.

Sheppard stripped off his shirt, and as he was unbuckling his gun belt, Emeline leaned over and untied the thin leather holster strap around his right thigh, then ran her fingers along his inner thigh. Unable to control his desire at her touch, he grabbed her hand murmuring, "Not yet little one; you can play soon enough."

Emeline lay back against the feather pillows, waiting for him to join her. As he slipped into bed, he pulled her close, his fingers gliding between them until he found her warmth. Her body arced as she encircled him with her legs, pulling him against her. Gently, he pressed into her and for the first time in his life, John Sheppard felt complete.

~ooOoo~

The cotton sheet felt cool and smooth as he slid his hand across the feather bed, expecting to find a soft warm body, but the soft warm body was missing. Sheppard raised his head from the pillow to discover Emeline wasn't lying next to him. Rolling onto his back, he languidly stretched his long limbs, wondering where she was. As he settled into the mattress, visions of the past night swirled in his head. Rubbing his face, he groaned, Emeline captivated him, and he realized that there was no turning back. Sheppard yawned deeply as he chastised himself; leaving was never a choice, he made the decision to stay in Wickenburg the moment he laid eyes on her.

Pale gray light filtered through the open side window, signaling it was nearly dawn. He slung back the covers and slipped out of bed, scouting the room for his clothes, which he spotted lying on the fainting couch. Padding across the room, he peered through the heavy drapes pulled across the French doors. Clyde was sitting in a rocker near the wrought-iron banister. As Sheppard pulled on his pants, he felt his face flush with heat, wondering what the deputy overheard during the night, remembering Emeline's moans. Sloughing off those thoughts, he finished dressing, grabbed his gun belt, and headed downstairs.

Approaching the kitchen, he heard voices, Emeline and Conchita's, then the sound of laughter. He laid his gun on the table hard enough to make a noise, and both women turned abruptly toward the sound.

"Oh, sorry, ladies; didn't mean to startle you."

Emeline held his gaze, as she greeted him, "Good morning."

Conchita was standing at the flour cabinet filling a bowl from the bin; she stopped and dusting off her hands, announced, "I will go help Julio with the eggs." Without another word, she was out the door.

"And you said I was subtle…"

Emeline shrugged her shoulders, biting her lower lip, "Must be contagious."

Sheppard slowly approached her, tipping her chin upward he kissed her gently. She moaned softly and he pulled her into his arms, lifting her from the floor. Finally ending the kiss, he eased her down, cradling her head against his chest.

She whispered, "Your heart's beating so fast."

He tangled his fingers in her silky hair, "You do that to me."

Emeline stepped away from him, her eyes downcast, "John, I…"

He pressed a finger to her lips, "I have only one question, Eme. Do you have any regrets?"

She looked up, answering quickly, "No – no regrets."

Sheppard gathered her into his arms again, "Good…not sure I could deal with…"

Tightening her arms around him, she whispered, "It's alright. When this Cowen mess is over, we need to discuss…"

"Yes, we do; but there's plenty of time. You're right; we need to deal with Cowen, then we deal with us."

Heavy footfalls, deliberate heavy footfalls, coming from the back porch reached their ears. Sheppard laughed, "Fair warning I think."

"Yes…sit down; I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"Need some help with the cooking?"

"No, you've earned the right to be waited on," Emeline's voice was teasing, sultry.

"Umm, I suppose I have," Sheppard relied as he sat down, a mischievous half-grin on his face.

Emeline and Conchita proceeded to bake biscuits, fry eggs, and chorizo, while Sheppard observed. One by one, the hands arrived for breakfast, each casting furtive glances at Emeline and him. He was a private man, but as Sheppard fought to keep from blushing, he realized everyone knew what had transpired last night. Tracking his gaze back to Emeline, he decided it didn't matter who knew he had slept in her bed; he wasn't planning on leaving.

While eating, they discussed what needed to be done regarding building the stables. There was still demolition to do, but Sheppard felt they needed to shore up the damaged roof first, then worry about rebuilding the walls.

"Chuck, Emeline said she had seen drawing of the house plans; you were here when Anton built this house and the stable, do you remember seeing drawings of the stables."

Scratching his head, Chuck replied, "Come to think of it, I do. Mister Anton had an old codger who helped him, named George, who always had big papers rolled up in his hand. He and Mister Anton would look at 'em often. I was pretty young at the time, so I was told not to touch 'em."

Emeline rose from the table, "I'm sure the plans have to be in Papere's office; once we get the dishes done, we'll look." She picked up a couple of empty plates but Conchita took them from her.

"Señorita, you go to find papers; Julio will help me."

Sheppard smiled, "You heard the lovely lady, let's go find those plans."

Emeline nodded and they left the kitchen, turning down a short hall located behind the parlor where the passageway ended in a closed door. Opening a square inlaid wooden box sitting on a narrow table, Emeline removed a key and unlocked the door. Sheppard heard her take a small breath as she placed her hand on the crystal knob; she was steeling herself to enter.

He covered her hand with his, "You don't have to go in there; I can look for the plans." He was leaning against her, and she turned pressing into him.

"I haven't been in here since Conchita, Julio, and I boxed up his things and moved them in here two weeks after he died."

"You don't have to go in now."

Emeline looked up at him, brushing her finger along his stubble-covered jaw, she whispered, "I can do this with you."

Sheppard kissed her softly, pulling her even closer, then ran his cheek along her neck; she giggled, "I swear that beard of yours grew overnight."

"Sorry, did I scratch you?"

She caressed his face, "No – not at all; I like how it feels."

Sucking in a deep breath, Sheppard reached around her and opened the door, "I think it would be quite a bit safer if we looked for the plans."

Anton's office was small, line with bookcases; a heavy rustic wooden desk sat along the outside wall, an old weathered leather chair behind it. Models of ships through the ages sat on the bookcases, and paintings of what Sheppard assumed was the New Orleans waterfront, hung on the walls. A burnished glint caught his eye, and he paused beside a box filled with framed photographs. One, in particular, stood out, Sheppard withdrew a family portrait, no doubt that the small dark-haired girl sitting on her father's lap was Emeline.

"Your family I take it?"

Emeline nodded but did not come closer, "Yes... I was nine when that was made. All the things in here were in his office on the docks. Every time I escaped from home my parents knew exactly where to find me." She walked to the largest painting of the New Orleans waterfront in the room; he joined her.

In the foreground, the painting depicted the dock area, several ships in port, freight and barrels scattered about, in the background, a long multi-story building, characteristic New Orleans balconies jutting from the second and third floors. Emeline gazed at the painting before she spoke, "Papere found this in a gallery in the French Quarter and had to have it. The offices for the LeMonde Shipping Company were located there, almost at the end of the building."

"Wasn't it dangerous for a small and quite beautiful child, to be in that area?"

She raised her eyebrows, "My mother certainly thought so but my father was more worried that I was showing more respect to Papere than to him. Believe me, there was greater reason to give my grandfather respect." Emeline rubbed the back of her neck, "We should look for the plans. If I remember, the house plans are in a flat box, but we've moved so many things in here, I don't have any idea where it is now."

They searched for nearly fifteen minutes without luck; Sheppard stooped down next to a bookcase, several boxed pushed against the base. "Eme, when did your grandfather ship all this stuff out here?"

"Chuck said that a few months after the house was finished, all kinds of furniture and crates began to arrive, the contents of his old office among them. I didn't know that he kept all of this. When my father bought the shipping company, I just assumed they absorbed it all into the large Spencer Shipping offices."

As she as speaking, Sheppard began to pull the boxes away from the bookcase, "All of this must have been very important to him."

"It was…," she paused, "John looked at this." She crossed the room, holding out an oval gilt frame holding a picture of a tall handsome dark-haired man standing next to a beautiful woman whose hair was turning gray but her eyes still full of youth and sparkle. "Mamere and Papere only a few months before she became ill; it was their fortieth anniversary, and they poised for this in the garden of the hotel."

Sheppard took the frame from her, "You certainly got your looks from these two. I mean, your father is a handsome man but his eyes are cold and calculating." He looked up at her, "And you are anything but cold," his voice conveyed his desire.

She ran her fingers through his hair, "Keep focused, find the plans."

He pulled away the last of the storage boxes and called to Emeline, who was returning the picture to the desk, "Think I've found them, there are a couple of long map boxes like we used in the Army; plans could be in here."

Emeline joined him, "Yes...one of those has to be the one I looked into; I didn't look into both." She cleared a space on the desk, "Put them here, John."

Dust flying, Sheppard pulled the boxes out, bringing them to the desk, coughing. "A little dusting in here, couldn't hurt."

She scoffed, "I suppose you're right."

A quick survey of the boxes, uncovered the plans they were hoping to find, not only did they find plans for the stable, the house, the small barn and bunkhouse, but also a larger stable. Sheppard took the stable plans out, "Let's get these to the kitchen and see what we have."

Over the next couple of hours, Sheppard, Emeline, and Chuck poured over the plans, determining the amount of lumber and nails they would need to repair the roof and the remainder of the barn.

"Chuck, does the mill keep wood planks in stock?"

"Some but not a lot, Hank usually cuts boards to order."

"We need to pay a visit to the sawmill and see what he has on hand, maybe it will be enough. Chuck, you drive the wagon. I want to ride Pegasus; he needs a workout."

"I'll go get the wagon hitched," Chuck said, hurrying out the door.

"John, do you think it's safe to go out," Emeline asked nervously.

"We'll be fine and back in no time." Sheppard gathered the plans and placed them into the map box. He leaned over and kissed Emeline on the forehead, "Stay inside until we return, I'm going to have the men come back to the house to keep an eye on things." Emeline nodded reluctantly.

Sheppard rounded up Julio, Paul, and Ramon and told them to join the deputy at the house until he got back, then hurried to his quarters to change. When he returned to the paddock where Chuck was waiting with the wagon, he stopped in his tracks. Emeline had changed into a black riding skirt and white blouse, and was sitting astride Bebette.

Exasperation evident on his face, Sheppard asked quietly, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

Glowering, Sheppard started to object but knowing that he wasn't going to win and didn't choose to argue with her in front of everyone, didn't. "Alright, you come with us." He turned to Clyde, "I want you with us," and to Paul, "You stay at the house like we discussed."

As Clyde hopped into the bench sitting next to Chuck, Sheppard mounted Pegasus and with Emeline beside him, led the wagon down the lane. Remembering the unease he felt the night before he rode into Wickenburg, he was acutely aware that at any moment, something was going to happen.


	7. Part Seven

_**Part Seven**_

The road leading to the Hassayampa Sawmill was familiar to Sheppard: he traveled the road to reach The Last Chance when he was pretending to leave Wickenburg. The road looped around town, and the mill was on a narrow lane just past the cemetery. The mill was small but active; Hank Landry was chopping limbs from a tree trunk when Sheppard, Emeline and the wagon pulled up.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Landry stopped chopping and walked to Emeline, "Miss Eme, heard about your trouble, figured you'd need some lumber, so I got the boys starting to cut some boards."

Sheppard dismounted and helped Emeline down; she hugged Hank, "Thanks for getting started. Hank, this is John Sheppard; he's been helping me."

Shaking Sheppard's hand, he said, "Heard about you, too; been busting on Cowen, I like that."

"Not busting hard enough, yet. We'd like to see what planks you've got in stock, want to get the stable's roof reinforced first."

Sheppard and Chuck spent about twenty minutes going over what they needed to repair the stable, then Hank's two sons loaded what finished boards they had onto the wagon. Emeline was sitting on the porch of the Landry house, located next to the mill. She was going over the order when Sheppard walked up.

"Hank said he could have the lumber that we need ready in about a week, not too bad considering the size of the mill."

"That's good."

"He also told me that he owed Anton, and helping you was a way to pay that debt; seems like your grandfather helped him out along the way. Is there anyone in Wickenburg your grandfather didn't help?"

"I'm sure there has to be, but Papere was a good man, a generous man. My father said he was too softhearted, always wanting to help the poor, didn't know anything about making money. What's ironic is that I don't believe my father realized how much money Papere actually had." She shook her head, "Father most likely would have treated him better."

"Well, the good thing is that we're going to take enough lumber back to the ranch to repair the roof that was damaged." Sheppard glanced toward the loading effort, "Looks like they are about done, come on, time to get back." He held out his hand, and pulled her to her feet. He leaned down, whispering, "I don't know about you, but I'm thinking it might be nice to take a siesta this afternoon."

Emeline uttered a soft sigh, a slight rosy blush appearing on her cheeks, "I suppose since you didn't get a lot of sleep last night that might be a good idea to take a nap."

Arching his eyebrow, he replied, "Who said anything about taking a nap?" Still holding her hand, he turned and led her down the stairs.

As they approached the main road from town Sheppard felt his adrenaline begin to rise, something didn't feel right. He took a quick glance around him, as the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He was reining Pegasus back so that he could ride side by side with Emeline when a shot rang out and as Sheppard whirled the stallion around, he saw Clyde falling from the wagon. Chuck was reaching for his rifle resting against the footboard.

"Emeline, get behind me," Sheppard yelled, as he caught a glimpse of two riders hiding in the trees. As she tapped Bebette on the side to move the mare faster, another shot rang out and Sheppard fell from Pegasus.

"John…," Emeline screamed as she brought Bebette to a halt, and jumped to the ground. Rushing to Sheppard's side, she was almost to him, when strong arms grabbed her and pulled her onto a horse.

The rider yelled to his companion, "I've got her; let's go."

Chuck had managed to stop the wagon and swung his rifle toward the rider holding a struggling Emeline, but the second attacker struck him in the head with his rifle butt, knocking him unconscious. With Emeline still screaming for Sheppard, the attackers sped down the road toward Cowen's ranch.

~ooOoo~

"C-Chuck…. Chuck…," Sheppard called weakly, as he struggled to get to his feet despite the searing pain in his side. There was no reply, but Sheppard wasn't clear if it was only because the sound of Emeline yelling for him was ringing in his ears. He felt his right side; his side was hot, wet, and sticky, his hand covered with bright blood. He pushed himself to his feet, pain radiating from his wound, but he needed to see if Chuck and Clyde were alive, and he needed to get to Lorne.

He felt a soft nudge to his shoulder; it was Pegasus. He leaned against the huge horse for support, "I lost her, boy; I lost her…gotta find her." Pegasus neighed softly, and walked along beside Sheppard as he headed for the wagon. Chuck was slumped over the bench, blood trailing down his face. Looking down the road, Sheppard spotted Clyde lying lifeless in the scrub grass.

Feeling Chuck's neck, Sheppard dropped his head in relief, Chuck was alive, his pulse strong. Clyde was his concern; using Pegasus as a crutch, he made it to the deputy. A bullet tore through Clyde's left shoulder, exiting just under his armpit; he had lost a lot of blood, but he was alive. He wouldn't live long Sheppard realized, unless he got him to Doc Beckett quickly.

Sheppard pulled a coil of rope hanging from Pegasus' saddle, and tied it to the saddle horn, then looped the rope under Clyde's arms. "Come on, boy, I need your help." Slowly, he walked the big stallion back to the wagon, dragging Clyde as gently as possible. Reaching the rear of the wagon, he untied the rope from Clyde's body, and with difficulty, lifted him onto the pile of lumber. Slumping over the edge of the wagon, Sheppard tried to breathe through the pain in his side. He reached into his back pocket for a bandana; opening his shirt, he pressed the cloth against his wound, slipping his gun belt up in an attempt to hold it in place. He tethered Pegasus' reins to the back of the wagon, then gingerly walked to Bebette, standing under the trees along the side of the road.

The young mare was skittish, but she allowed Sheppard to grab her reins, rubbing her neck, "I'll find her… I promise." He guided Bebette back to the wagon, securing her alongside Pegasus, then he climbed onto the wagon, and turning it around, headed into Wickenburg.

Rodney McKay was sweeping off the porch when he heard the clacking of wagon wheels approaching. Turning toward the sound, he dropped the broom and began running, yelling at bystanders, "Get Doc Beckett, and the sheriff."

Slumped over, Sheppard barely had hold of the reins. A man raced from the apothecary and grabbed the bridle of one of the horses pulling the wagon. Rodney jumped up on the wagon's sideboard, "John, John…what happened."

Sheppard raised his head, "They took her," he looked at McKay, pain in his eyes, "Cowen's got her." Rodney caught him as he fell over, unconscious.

~ooOoo~

Garbled murmuring surrounded him as he regained consciousness, forcing his eyes open, he saw Chuck sitting in a chair across the small room. As he became more lucid, he heard Rodney and Beckett whispering.

"D-Doc…"

Beckett spun around, "Laddie you're back with us; that's good." Sheppard struggled to sit up, but Beckett gently pushed him back against the exam table. "No, no…you are much too weak to get up."

"Chuck...the deputy…they alright?"

"Chuck's got a nasty wee headache, but he'll be fine; Clyde…well, he's hurt bad, but you got him back here in time I think."

"Lorne?"

Rodney answered, "He's getting a posse together. We're heading to Cowen's ranch to get her; don't worry."

Sheppard moved to get up, but Rodney wouldn't allow him, "No you're hurt too bad; you're in no condition to go after Cowen."

"I want to see Lorne."

Rodney whispered, "Rest, I'll get Lorne."

Sheppard drifted off to sleep for a bit, waking with a start to find Doc Beckett bandaging his side. "Oh, lad, you're awake again, just finishing up stitching and bandaging your wound. You were lucky; the bullet went through your right side, but I think it missed your vital parts, but you've lost a lot of blood."

"I'm fine, just give me my shirt. I've gotta get out of here…"

"You are not going anywhere."

"You need to listen to the doc, John."

Rolling his head to the left, Sheppard saw Lorne walking into the room. "What's happening?"

"I've already sent four men to watch Cowen's house. We know Cowen isn't there. The stagecoach got in about an hour ago, and the driver came straight to me; Cowen was over at the Fenway stagecoach station where drifters gather at the saloon next door. The driver heard him offering big money to anyone willing to help him end a problem. I sent a couple of the miners to watch the road from Fenway, as soon as they spot him, they are to return here with word. And before you ask, I've sent word to Paul and the others."

Sheppard pushed himself up, glaring at Beckett, who reached to stop him. Swinging his legs over the side of the table, he grimaced but asked, "Get me my shirt doc."

"No, laddie, I can't let you; that wound could start bleeding again, you can't risk losing any more blood."

"I'll be fine… I'm going."

"John," Beckett was pleading, "You're no good to her dead."

Unblinking, Sheppard stared at the doctor, replying in a low determined voice, "She needs me now…I'm going; now get me a shirt."

Chuck was in the next room and rushed in when he heard Sheppard's voice. "Doc, I'll look out for him; but he's right...we gotta to go."

Beckett looked from Chuck to Sheppard, and then at Lorne, "Cheeky buggers." Looking back at Sheppard, he said, "I'll get you a clean shirt."

Lorne shook his head, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Twenty minutes later, Lorne returned, "Gotta go, just got word; Cowen's headed back to the ranch, and he's brought at least fourteen men with him." A quick glance at the doc, Lorne added, Nick took care of your horses; they're outside."

Without saying a word, Sheppard squeezed the doctor's shoulder and left, Chuck and Lorne trailing behind. When he stepped onto the boardwalk, he was shocked; waiting for them was at least twenty townsfolk on horseback, waiting to go with them. Sheppard wasn't surprised to see McKay, and Zelenka along with Nick and Pedro as part of the posse, but he was surprised to see Richard Woolsey.

"Mayor, didn't…expect you here, I thought you and…Cowen were 'friends,'" the sarcasm in his voice evident.

"Mr. Sheppard, I don't count murderers and arsonists among my friends. Cowen has to be stopped; I'm just sorry we've allowed this to get this far."

"Never…too late to do the right thing," Sheppard said. Chuck helped Sheppard onto Pegasus and then mounted Bebette. Lorne and Sheppard led the posse out of town.

When they arrived at the lane leading to The Last Chance, Paul and Ramon were waiting. Lorne stopped the group. Paul headed directly to Sheppard, "Boss you alright?" Sheppard only nodded, and Paul continued, "Julio and Conchita are staying at the house with Dwayne; we're coming with you."

Lorne ordered two of the posse members to join his deputy for The Last Chance to help protect, and with Paul and Ramon joining them, the group galloped at full speed for Cowen's ranch.

A dilapidated sign with the name 'Lone Star Ranch,' hung haphazardly from a tall post next to a gate, which sat across the lane leading onto Cowen's property. There was an air of neglect surrounding the farm. As they approached the gate, Sheppard remarked, "Doesn't look like this bastard cares much about his property."

"Don't think he does," Lorne answered, "from what I know, he swindled the previous owner out of this property, about all he does is raise cattle, break some horses. Don't think he knows much about ranching. The former owner was from Texas, just like Cowen; figure he knew him and took advantage."

Sheppard grunted harshly, "The one thing he does know how to do is kidnap an innocent woman."

Lorne stared at Sheppard whose hand was grasping his right side, his breathing rapid, "John you're not in any shape to do this, let us go get Eme."

Slowing turning to look at the man who he considered a friend, Sheppard's eyes radiated dark rage, "I'm going to get her."

The men Lorne had sent ahead emerged from behind the tree line where they had hidden. One of the poker players Sheppard recognized from the saloon rode up to Lorne. "Sheriff, Cowen got back here about forty minutes ago, had a whole bunch of strangers with him, maybe ten or twelve men."

Nodding at the information, Lorne yelled, "Listen up, the land leading up to Cowen's ranch house is full of trees, only clears out right at the house. Once we're through the gate, I want you to fan out and surround the structure; no one goes inside but Sheppard, my deputies and me. I deputized all of you," he looked at Sheppard, Chuck, Paul, and Ramon, "you, as well. That means you need to kill one of these bastards, do it. Everyone wait, don't shoot unless you have to, we need to find Emeline first if we can." Motioning to one of the riders, he ordered, "Get that gate open."

The posse passed through the open gate, and the men broke off to each side of the lane, disappearing into the thick groves of trees. The lane was long; nearly a mile, and about a quarter-mile from the ranch house, Lorne stopped Sheppard.

"John, we should probably walk from here, don't want them to know we are here before we're in place. You up to walking?"

Sheppard nodded, "I can walk."

The men dismounted, Paul hopping down and grabbing onto Sheppard's arm before he got off Pegasus. Sheppard started to jerk his arm away, his nerves were raw and he needed to get to Emeline, but the look on Paul's face told him that he and the others who worked for her were just as scared as he was. He didn't like needing help, but this was not the time to refuse these loyal men. He allowed Paul to take some of his weight as he slid off the stallion.

"Thanks, Paul."

"No problem, boss; remember we got your back."

Sheppard nodded, grabbed his rifle, and handed the reins to Paul, who tied Pegasus to a tree. He spoke to Lorne, "Let's go," and with Paul, Chuck, and Ramon close to him, Sheppard headed toward the house, Lorne and his deputies behind him.

A rambling adobe house, with a deep porch and few windows came into Sheppard's view, and he raised his fist, "House is ahead." There was one guard on the porch, but Sheppard could hear loud boisterous laughter from a barn situated about two hundred yards from the house; no doubt, the men Cowen recruited were inside.

Sheppard whispered to Lorne, "Any idea about the layout of the house?"

Before Lorne could answer, another voice replied, "I've been in there, I can tell you."

Lorne and Sheppard turned to see Rodney McKay standing behind them. Lorne grimaced, "Rodney you were supposed to stay with the others as backup, what are you doing here?"

McKay bristled, "Eme's my friend, too and so is John. I'm here because I can help."

Sheppard coughed, his voice raspy, exhausted from the walk, "You've been in the house?"

"Yes, just before Anton died, Cowen sold a bunch of stuff from the house, clothes, furnishings; I bought them for the store, was here a couple of times getting the merchandise. The house is big, huge front parlor and living room, enormous kitchen, there are two bedrooms on the first floor, and in the rear, a two-story addition, can't see it behind that façade with the mission bell. Main bedroom is on the second floor."

Sheppard asked, "R-Rodney, best way in from here?"

"There's a side door, leads to the pantry; I think you can get to it from here without the guard seeing you. If I remember correctly, you go through the kitchen and dining room to the vestibule, the staircase leads to the second-floor hall."

Turning toward McKay, Sheppard allowed a slight smile to cross his face, "Thanks…if I can get in there before Cowen knows…. Well, she's got a better chance…," Sheppard took a step toward the house, but Lorne grabbed his sleeve.

"John, let me go; I can move quicker."

"No…give me time to get inside and find her, then you can follow."

Lorne and Sheppard stared at each other for a second, before Lorne nodded, "We'll do this your way; just be careful."

"I will..."

As he began to move stealthily toward the house, he heard Ramon murmur, "Dios esté contigo."

Sheppard slipped as swiftly as he could across the land, and ducked behind a thick copse of trees until he was next to the side of the house. Just as Rodney said, there was a narrow wooden door and Sheppard hurried toward it. As he reached the house, he flattened his back against the wall, his eyes darting around to determine if anyone had spotted him. He tried to slow his breathing, and ignore the pain in his side; he knew he had to be in control to save Emeline.

Satisfied no one had seen him, Sheppard reached for the door handle and pushed down, holding his breath and praying that it would release. When he heard the door click open, he sucked in a deep breath, one step closer to Emeline.

He walked into a darkened pantry; the only light from the open door behind him. He paused allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light before he quietly closed the exterior door. Pale light spilling in from the kitchen illuminated the room, the walls were lined with shelves of canned goods lined the wall, sacks and crates of flour, cornmeal, and potatoes stacked on the floor. The room was untidy, and he had to watch his footing closely to keep from making noise.

There was just enough room for him to hide behind the wall next to the kitchen door; peeking around the corner, he saw a thin man sitting at the large rustic wood table peeling potatoes. Sheppard slung his rifle strap over his shoulder to secure it, and steeled himself before silently slipping up behind the man. Grasping his rifle, Sheppard slammed the butt in the side of the man's head; the pile of potatoes became a pillow as the cook slumped over, unconscious.

Making his way to the closed door on the opposite side of the room, Sheppard slowly pulled the door open to find the dining room in front of him. Two arched openings led from the dining room, one into what Sheppard assumed was the parlor, the other to a wide space, which he decided was the vestibule.

There was no cover as he crossed the dining room, if someone was nearby the only hiding place he had was a tall glass-front china cabinet sitting to the right side of the vestibule door. He was almost at the opening when he heard voices; he scurried to the cabinet, flattening himself against the wall, holding his breath, as he eavesdropped on the conversation.

"Those guys you sent to The Last Chance know what to do?"

"Ralph gave them the layout of the ranch; shouldn't take long to get rid of the people still there and take control. Now that we took care of that meddling Sheppard and those other two, should be quick."

"Cowen was smart to figure they'd go to the sawmill; made it easy for us."

"He sure was happy that we got the little Emeline…he's been lusting after her forever."

"Never saw him as excited as he headed upstairs where we left her."

"While you were out in the barn, I heard her scream…he must be having a good time with her."

"Well, he promised us a go when he was done with her; I'm looking forward to having her.'

"Hopefully he won't have killed her by then; he does love to use a knife on his toys."

Their voices faded; Sheppard heard a door creak and barely made out the last words, but he understood enough; Cowen was a maniac, and he had Emeline. The pain in his side faded as his rage boiled over, he took a quick peek into the vestibule, then rushed toward the staircase. He was two steps from the top when he heard Emeline's scream.

Within seconds, he was in the upstairs hallway, where there were four closed doors; he listened for voices but there were none; the silence filled him with dread. He tried the first door, flinging it open but the bedroom was empty; the room next door was the same…empty. He was turning to face the other side of the hall, when he heard Cowen's voice. He slipped up beside the door, listening.

"Ah…my little beauty, I would have never treated you this way if you had just gone along with my plans. But you didn't, so now you know my little secret, and you look so pretty with those little streaks of blood all over your magnificent body. I can't wait to see how you look when I'm finished with you. There's no one to save you, that bastard Sheppard is dead." Cowen laughed, followed by another scream from Emeline.

Sheppard had heard enough, and raising his rifle he kicked in the door; his heart ripped in two at the sight before him. Emeline was naked, tied spread-eagle on the bed; long thin cuts along her thighs, and across her chest and abdomen. As he barged into the room, Cowen was dragging the tip of the knife along the inside of her left thigh, his face enamored at the sight of blood beading from the shallow wound. He was so intent on his actions that he didn't react to Sheppard's presence.

"Get away from her."

Cowen's head snapped around, his eyes wild, shock at seeing Sheppard alive evident. "You, they told me you were dead."

Sheppard's voice was low, steady, "They lied; now get away from her."

Cowen grabbed Emeline's hair and pulled her head off the bed, and laid the knife against her throat. "You drop that rifle or I will cut her throat open."

Sheppard glared at Cowen, "It's over…let her go."

"No, not over." He tipped the knife drawing a thin line of blood below Emeline's left ear. "Put the rifle down on the floor, along with that sidearm, or I'll kill her now."

Sheppard put the rifle down, and pulled his gun from its holster, laying it next to the rifle. "She's not going to die, Cowen, but you are."

Cowen turned Emeline's head so Sheppard could get a better view of the shallow cut along her neck, "Look how lovely that blood looks on her pale neck."

Sheppard spoke through gritted teeth, "You're the one who's been taking those women in the area."

Cowen grinned, "So much fun, taking those little sluts and playing with them, but I must say, this little thing is so delicious…her blood tastes like nectar." Cowen reached for a piece of rope lying on a table next to the bed tossing it toward the foot, and with the knife still at Emeline's throat, he grabbed a gun from the bed table and fired through the open window. "That'll bring my men, and we'll get you all tied up so you can watch the fun as we enjoy the lovely Emeline."

Sheppard had backed up against the dresser at the foot of the bed, for a brief moment, he locked eyes with Emeline hoping she knew he would not let her die. Sheppard feigned dizziness and reached behind him, appearing to steady himself on the dresser, his hand clutching a ceramic box.

Cowen laughed, "Not sure you're going to live long enough to enjoy the fun."

Sheppard waited until Cowen glanced down at Emeline, then threw the box, striking him in the head. Stunned, Cowen wasn't prepared for Sheppard to lunge at him. The impact of Sheppard's body slamming into him sent both men to the floor. As they struggled for the knife, gunfire erupted outside.

Emeline struggled against the ropes around her wrists and ankles, yelling John's name. "John, John, be careful." She screamed as Cowen, who had managed to roll over top of Sheppard, raised the knife and struck. Sheppard grunted but managed to throw Cowen off him; his hand gripped viselike around Cowen's wrist. With another loud grunt, Sheppard twisted Cowen's hand and plunged the knife into the man's chest. Cowen's eyes widened in utter surprise, then the large man dropped back onto the floor.

"John…John...," Emeline was sobbing.

Sheppard's bloody hand appeared on the edge of the bed, and he pushed himself up, "I'm here…" he stopped as one of Cowen's men rushed into the room.

"You bastard…," the man raised his weapon but Sheppard was faster. In one motion, he pulled the knife from Cowen's chest and threw it, striking the attacker in the heart.

Pushing himself off the floor with difficulty, Sheppard slowly walked to the body, retrieving the knife, and knelt on the bed as he began to cut the ropes binding Emeline. Gunfire was still raging outside.

His voice was shaky, "I'm sorry I should…have protected you better."

As he freed her hands, she wrapped her arms around him, "I thought you were dead, he told me you were dead." She was shivering violently.

Not dead yet," he whispered as he gently pushed her away, cutting the ropes to her feet, then grabbed the bedcover lying across a divan, "Lorne and the…others are outside; they'll be…be in here soon." He wrapped the cover around her, "This will you keep w-warm."

It was then that she realized he was covered with blood, "John you're hurt…"

He looked down at his left shoulder, blood seeping from a deep wound, "Seems like Cowen m-managed…to stab me..." His voice trailed off, and he began to slump against her.

"John…John...," Emeline screamed as Lorne rushed into the room. She reached out to Lorne, "He's hurt badly, help me."

The last thing Sheppard heard was Lorne yelling for help, then darkness overcame him.

~ooOoo~

Darkness surrounded him as awareness that he was still alive seeped into his consciousness.

He wasn't certain if the pain in his chest, the softness of the mattress he laid on, or the warm body lying next to him breathing softly, was what convinced him, but he was alive that much he knew. Instinctively, he knew he was in Emeline's bed, and he attempted to turn his head to look for her, but he didn't have enough strength. He fell into darkness again, the sound of gentle breathing echoing in his ears.

Sheppard awoke once more to find himself lying on a soft mattress, a warm body beside him, pain radiating across his chest; the only difference was this time, there was pale light in the room. Managing to turn his head, warmth spread through him to find Emeline curled against him, asleep; she was wearing one of the peasant blouses he loved, her raven hair loose about her shoulders.

His eyes trailed down her body, noticing the thin wounds along her throat and chest disappearing into the soft cotton of her blouse. Blind rage flooded his senses, but he calmed remembering Cowen's dying breath at his hands; wishing only that he could kill him again. He called her name, but his voice was feeble, gravelly, barely audible; as he fell asleep once more, he thought he felt her stir, whispering his name.

The third time he awoke, the room was flooded with sunlight, a hot breeze billowing the sheer curtains under the drapes into the air. He sensed he was alone in the bed but that someone was in the room. A soft cooing sound drifted to his ears, and he raised his head to see who was with him. Through his fuzzy vision, he could make out someone sitting on the fainting couch; as he began to focus, he realized his companion was Jennifer, and she was cradling an infant.

"J-Jenn…," his voice broke as he tried to speak, his throat felt like sandpaper.

Jennifer jumped up, rushing to the side of the bed, "Handsome John…you're awake, goody."

"W-where's Emeline?"

"Miss Emeline's downstairs having lunch; she wouldn't leave your side since they got you home. No one, not Doc Beckett, the sheriff, or Conchita could convince her to eat, so Miss Laura insisted on coming to see if she could help. They are good friends, and she managed to get Miss Eme to go downstairs for a bit." Jennifer turned to leave but paused, "By the way, meet Matthew John Lorne, named after Miss Laura's father and you." Jennifer beamed as she hurried from the room.

A few minutes later, Sheppard heard footsteps running down the hall, and Emeline rushed into the room. She didn't pause, gently jumping on the bed, kissing him. He was caught off guard for a second, then slipped his arms around her, pulling her close.

She pulled away, "Be careful; you were hurt really badly. I don't want to reopen your wounds." She smiled at him, tears running down her face, "I thought I lost you."

Sheppard flashed a small half-grin, "Not… g-going to get rid of me that easily." He traced her lips with his fingers, "I'm… not... going anywhere."

"Carson will be here in a little while to check on you. He's going to be so happy to see you awake; he was worried; we all were."

"H-How long…."

"It's been four days since…," she stopped, chewing on her lower lip, tears still flowing down her cheeks.

Sheppard traced one of the now healing cuts along her chest, "I could kill him again for what he did to you."

Emeline shook her head, "Once is enough, we don't need him in our lives again."

"I…what you went through was traumatic, are you alright…I mean…when I saw what he…"

"Shhhh… I'm fine; I always knew you would come for me. Papere always told me to face adversity and allow it to make me stronger. All this did was make me stronger. These cuts will heal, and they will be gone and once you are well this will be over."

"Still, I'm sorry; I shouldn't…have allowed you to come w-with us to the sawmill."

"John, we knew the situation with Cowen was going to get worse. We were lucky, no one but Cowen and his men died."

Remembering Clyde, he asked quickly, "Clyde alright?"

"He's home, doing much better."

Sheppard was getting tired, his voice fading, his eyelids drooping, "W-what happened…at Cowen's?"

"Later, rest now; when you wake again, I'll have broth ready for you to eat, you need to regain your strength." Emeline leaned down, kissing him softly, and Sheppard allowed sleep to overtake him.

Dusk was settling over the ranch, when Sheppard woke again. The glow from the oil lamp on the dresser cast a warm golden light in the room. He raised up to see that the French doors were open and a cooler breeze than before was drifting into the bedroom. He assumed that Emeline was on the balcony; he decided that instead of calling for her, he was going to go to her.

Throwing back the cotton sheet that covered him, he chuckled lightly, he was wearing a blue and white striped nightshirt, he hadn't worn a nightshirt since he left the Army. Pushing his body into a sitting position proved to be a bit more difficult than he had expected and sweat began to form on his brow. He had just begun to swing his legs over the side of the bed, when a soft voice interrupted the quiet.

"Just exactly what do you think you're doing?"

Sheppard looked over his shoulder to see Emeline standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand, Otis by her side. He smiled sheepishly, "I was coming to see you." Quickly, before she could reply, he asked, "Can I have a drink of coffee?"

She approached his bedside, and poured a cup of water from a pitcher on the side table. "No, Carson said you can have a sip of water, which I will be happy to give you." She held the cup as he took a drink. "Do you want to stay sitting up for a bit?"

He nodded in reply, and she reached around him to move the pillows so they would support him. As she leaned close, he slid his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. For a moment, they both savored the touch of their bodies; Emeline broke the embrace first. Her voice filled with desire, she whispered, "Please don't tempt me; you are not well enough for what I want."

He slid his hand along her back and felt her shudder, "Then I need to get well quickly."

Emeline stepped away, "Yes you do." She took a deep breath, "Carson and Lorne are downstairs; I'm going to tell them that you are awake and get you something to eat. You can have more water as long as you don't drink a lot. Otis can keep you company; we've had a hard time keeping him out of here." She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and headed downstairs.

Sheppard's eyes were closed, Otis lying next to him, when Doctor Beckett and Lorne walked in the room. Beckett dropped his black bag on the foot of the bed and sat down along the edge, "Laddie you are awake."

Lazily opening his eyes, Sheppard responded, "I'm awake."

"That's good; we were worried for a while. Not only did you reopen the gunshot wound in your side but Cowen also got in a good lick with that knife. I was afraid of infection, but thankfully, I've kept up correspondence with an old colleague of mine, Joseph Lister, from the University of Glasgow. He recommends carbolic acid to clean wounds and instruments, and I've been doing just that. You didn't develop an infection, which most likely would have killed you. Your most serious problem was the loss of blood, but I think you're gonna be fine laddie; just need to get your strength back. Now let me look at these wounds." Beckett began to unbutton the nightshirt.

Lorne was standing at the foot of the bed, "Doc, can I talk to him while you examine him?"

"Of course, but if he gets real tired, you'll have to stop."

Sheppard asked, "What happened at Cowen's ranch?"

"Emeline told us that Cowen was the one who shot from the window. When he did, some of the men gathered in the barn ran toward the house. We opened fire on them, but one of them got into the house, the one you killed. We killed nearly all the men Cowen recruited; few of them injured along with some of our people."

"Who got hurt?"

Carson answered, "Nothing too serious; Zelenka had to have stitches on his head, got hit with a shovel. Pedro took a bullet to his left leg, and Rodney got winged by a bullet in the upper arm…"

"McKay got shot?"

Lorne smiled, "He did but you should have seen him; he took out two of Cowen's men without blinking. You've had some kind of influence on that man."

Smiling crookedly, Sheppard said, "Don't think it was me, I think it was Jennifer."

Beckett chuckled, "Aye laddie I think you might be right about that. John, your wounds look good. I'm gonna change those bandages tonight but first before you get too tired, I want you to eat something. I'm gonna go check on that soup Conchita was making. Keep him company, Evan."

Lorne sat down on the foot of the bed, "Been a long few days, John. To catch you up, by the time we arrived at Cowen's, he'd already sent several men here to take the ranch. They didn't, but Julio was shot in the leg…," reacting to Sheppard's shock, "he's fine; bullet went straight through his thigh. He stayed here in the house for a couple of days, then the doc let him move to his quarters. They defended this ranch well John; you'd have been proud of them."

Sheppard laid his head back against the pillows, "Doesn't surprise me; they're a loyal bunch of people, and I am proud of them."

Lorne looked uncomfortable, "We found out Cowen was responsible for the disappearance of those women. The cook admitted that he knew about them, and that Cowen had his men abduct them and bring them to the ranch. Cowen would play his little games with them, then if they were still alive, let his men have their way with them, but most didn't survive Cowen's attention. The cook told us where the bodies were buried; we've found six so far."

A chill ran down Sheppard's back, "Tell me that those men who attacked Jennifer weren't taking her for Cowen."

"Can't know for sure, John."

Sheppard didn't say anything for a moment, when he did, the rage he felt at Cowen flared in his eyes, "I've seen evil before, Evan, but never like this. He was cutting Eme as I entered the room, there was nothing but total pleasure on his face as he watched her bleed."

Lorne's voice was solemn as he answered, "He was an evil man, John; and thanks to you, he's gone."

Nodding, Sheppard reflected quietly, "At what cost? What Emeline went through was horrible, and I wonder whether it will affect her for the rest of her life."

"Remember we've discussed the tough little women that we have to deal with; Emeline is strong and with your help, she'll get through this."

Sheppard sighed, "Or will I be a reminder of what she went through and cause her more pain?"

Lorne scoffed, "Don't be an idiot. She'd be devastated if you left, and Laura would have my hide if I let you. Face it, John Sheppard, your home."

Before Sheppard could answer, Emeline and Beckett returned with soup and bread. Lorne said, "I need to go home. I took Laura and the baby home this afternoon, 'bout time I got back there. Night all."

As Lorne reached the door, Sheppard called out, "I-I don't know what to say about your son's name…I'm f-flattered."

Lorne smiled, "Laura and I wanted to be able to remind him when he got older that there are some truly good men in the world."

Sheppard didn't reply as Lorne left, just looked at Emeline, who smiled, "Wise man, that sheriff of ours. Now time for you to eat, Carson will redress your wounds, and then you will rest."

~ooOoo~

Five days later, Sheppard and Emeline along with Julio and Conchita rode into Wickenburg. Julio and Conchita took a delivery of fresh vegetables to the hotel and the rival guesthouse then went to the mercantile to pick up supplies. Emeline visited Laura and the baby to deliver the baby blanket she knitted while sitting with Sheppard while he recuperated.

Sheppard stopped by the jail to see Lorne, where he found out that the new judge was satisfied with the report on deaths of Cowen and all the others. The prisoners were moved to the larger jail in Flagstaff two days before, and Lorne was happy to see life was returning to normal in Wickenburg.

He walked into Beckett's office; Beckett, who was stocking one of his cabinets, grinned as Sheppard walked in. "Getting use to seeing you around."

"Feels kind of natural to be here."

"Well, let's take a look at those wounds."

About a half-our later, as Sheppard started to leave, Beckett handed him a letter, "Woolsey wanted me to give this to you."

Sheppard stepped out onto the boardwalk, and read the letter. He stood quietly for a moment contemplating Woolsey's message, then headed down the boardwalk toward the bank, spurs jangling with each step.

An hour later, he walked out of the bank and headed for the saloon. Zelenka waved him over to the bar, where Rodney McKay was sitting.

Zelenka sat a bottle down in front of Sheppard, "My best whiskey…on the house."

McKay smirked, "He doesn't give me that stuff for free."

Zelenka retorted, "You…you are reason I got hit in head with shovel, you ducked and man hit me. So, you pay."

McKay sighed and Sheppard laughed, then teased, "So, Lorne tells me that you actually asked Zelenka permission to 'court' Jennifer."

Blushing, McKay shrugged his shoulders, "My sister thought it was what I should do; but I can tell you, going to be a fast courtship. Jenn actually wants to learn the store, so she's working there right now."

"Well, you two seemed quite happy when you came to dinner the other night."

"We weren't the only ones, you and Emeline…you were made for each other."

Sheppard downed a shot of whiskey, "She is special, Rodney."

"That she is, and you'd be a fool not to stay."

Sheppard checked his pocket watch, "Never said I was going to leave; right now, I need to meet her at the hotel, so we can go home. Your arm better?"

"Still hurts a bit."

"We're starting to rebuild the stable tomorrow, could use your help. We'll find something for you to do."

Looking uncomfortable, McKay nodded reluctantly, "I'll be there."

Back at The Last Chance, Julio, Chuck, and Ramon unloaded the items they had picked up at the mercantile, while Emeline went inside to change. Before he headed for the bunkhouse, Sheppard took an envelope into the house, leaving it on Anton's desk with instructions for Conchita to tell Emeline it was there. He then led Pegasus toward the bunkhouse.

About twenty minutes later, Sheppard was tying Pegasus' reins to the hitching post when Emeline rushed onto the veranda, holding the papers that had been in the envelope.

"What is this?"

He turned and looked at her, "It's a deed."

"I know what it is, but it has my name on it."

"Yes, it does," he answered, leaning against the banister.

"From the description, this was Cowen's land, did you buy it?"

"Yes, I did. Woolsey offered it to me at a very reduced price; said Cowen had no heirs and that the bank didn't want the land. You need more land to do what you want to do with the ranch. Only fitting that you got what Cowen wanted, after what he did to you."

"But you paid for this; the land should be in your name."

"No, it's for you."

Emeline stared at him for a moment, then her eyes tracked to Pegasus, where she saw all of Sheppard's saddlebags. She paled, her voice quivering as she asked, "Are you leaving?"

Sheppard, puzzled, started to ask what she meant, then realized that she had noticed his belonging on Pegasus. Biting his lower lip, he asked quietly, "Do you want me to stay?"

She sagged against an iron porch pillar, "Mamere once told me that no matter how much you want someone to stay, you can't make them if they want to leave." Her voice trembled, "I can't ask you to stay."

Taking a step up, Sheppard asked, "That wasn't what I asked; I asked if you want me to stay."

Tears billowed down her face as she slipped to her knees, "I want you to stay."

Sheppard rushed to her, dropping to one knee in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. "Emeline, I'm sorry; I was teasing you…you think I really want to leave?"

"Y-you…all your things…"

He dropped his head into his hand. "Oh… Emeline… I was bringing my stuff to the house since I seem to have moved into your bedroom. Chuck rounded up some new hands, and they'll be here tomorrow to help with the stable. We need the space in the bunkhouse." He stood up and pulled her to her feet, "I'm sorry I just needed to hear you say you wanted me to stay; I didn't mean to upset you."

Emeline clung to him, "John... I want you, need you, to stay with me. I've wanted you to stay since the first day I saw you."

"I'm not going anywhere; I want to be here with you." He kissed her gently, "Help me get these in the house."

As soon as the last of the saddlebags was inside the house, Sheppard grabbed her hand and led her outside to Pegasus. He untied the reins and mounted the stallion, then held out his hand, "Come up facing me."

She gave him her hand, and he pulled her onto Pegasus' back. She slipped her arms around him and whispered, "I love you."

Sheppard kissed her, "I love you, Emeline."

Lightly pressing his spurs into Pegasus' sides, the black stallion began galloping down the lane, Otis running behind.

Emeline asked, "Where are we going?"

Sheppard whispered, "Swimming."

_The end…_

* * *

_Thanks for taking this AU ride with me...I hope you enjoyed Cowboy!Shep and his journey into the Old West._

_I really appreciate all of you taking time to read and comment. Thanks again!_

_(Now...off to finish the next Road Trip chapter...)_


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